


actus reus

by chimaekjin (symmetrophobic)



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, but also mystery stuff!!, cute boys being dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-02-29 02:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18769333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/chimaekjin
Summary: when chan passes out one morning at breakfast, the rest are ready to write it off as a product of his overworked schedule again, and corral him into bed with lots of cuddles and a work ban.but woojin can't help but feel there's more to it than that - and the worst part? he might not have much longer to figure out what it is.





	1. 001.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys...! guess who's writing canon fic for kpop again after 3 years!!
> 
> ;u;
> 
> so i'm trying get back into the groove of writing canon fic in general, if some parts get a little confusing here please excuse me!! this was just a fic idea i couldn't get rid of, based off of one of my favourite books (the title of which i'll put in the end notes of the final chapter!). for those who are reading my other skz superhero au surrender, this one will probably be a lot shorter (and have more pining,,,lots more pining) and simpler, but i hope you guys like it all the same! ;u; 
> 
> thank you for reading, comments will be appreciated <3

The first thing Woojin usually does when he’s lucid enough in the morning (usually meaning when he’s stepped out of the bathroom, face washed and teeth brushed, rubbing a towel in his hair) is to scan the living room, running down a human checklist at the back of his mind. He also usually does this without realising it, because to consciously acknowledge it would mean admitting some sort of shared parental responsibility over this team of rugrats.

A sentiment that he doesn’t accept ( _can’t_ accept), contrary to whatever PR statements had to be made on camera. Such a concept would be absolutely unthinkable, he thinks, as Felix plows into his arms with the force and lethality of a bunny cannon.

“Seungmin and I are going to get milk, hyung,” he says, bouncing up and down. There’s a piece of bread in his hands and crumbs on his cheeks, which Woojin wipes off using his towel. “We can get milk before practice, right? Remember I told you, that new flavour-…”

“Just make sure you get to the studio on time,” Woojin pats the younger boy’s waist absent-mindedly, drifting towards the kitchen to see who’s awake now and who needs an army charging down their bedroom door.

Felix darts off to find Seungmin, as Woojin passes Minho and Jisung, conspiring over a cup of coffee, and Jeongin, sipping from a mug of hot milk in a corner of the kitchen and attempting to retreat into the wall every time Hyunjin flutters by, looking extra sleepy (and cuddly).

“Did Chan come back from the studio last night?” Woojin asks Changbin, stealing the younger boy’s coffee and taking a sip. Changbin lets out a noise between a grunt and a whine, pawing at his coffee mug. There’s a whole queue of supplements on the kitchen counter in front of him – he’s _really conscientious_ about taking these things.

“He stayed after Sungie and I left at 4,” the rapper yawns, frown disappearing into a pleased, sleepy smile when he gets his coffee back. “I told him to come back early, but he never listens.”

 _Huh_ , Woojin thinks, as Hyunjin latches onto him from behind, gnawing on his shoulder and whining about lack of sleep. _Chan overworking himself, what’s new?_

It’s not like their leader can _help_ it, or anything, though – their comeback is coming up and JYP’s banking on 3RACHA for Stray Kids’ new songs. Woojin feels spectacularly useless as he takes a long drink from his water bottle at the kitchen, patting Hyunjin’s head as he does so. More than ever, he wishes he could just _help_ with something, wishes he knew enough to write a song or compose something decent enough for Chan’s approval.

( _JYP’s approval_ , Woojin corrects himself in his head. Because, duh, he wants to write songs to help the group, not to impress Chan – right?)

“Go and change,” he squeezes Hyunjin’s hand, turning around to chivvy the boy towards the bedrooms. “Don’t take too long and _don’t_ go back to sleep.”

“You can’t make me,” Hyunjin mumbles, zombie walking back to his room.

Woojin’s watching him with a worried frown, wondering if he should follow the boy just to make sure, when the door beeps, then, and is pushed open a crack.

“Hyung!” Felix beams, where he’s wearing his socks by the door, along with a grumpy looking Seungmin. “Damn, you okay?”

“Peachy,” Chan mumbles as he shoulders his way past the door. He’s wearing a black hoodie, dark enough to match the bags under his eyes, face paler than usual and head ducked as he walks in, hands tucked in his pockets.

On mornings like these, Chan seems to take up less space than usual, hunched in on himself, walking with more of an aimless shuffle than the confident strut everyone sees on camera, and Woojin just wants to pick him up, tuck him into bed and turn the lights off with the promise of a hot meal on the table when he wakes up.

“Hey,” he’s walking over before he realises it, taking Chan’s bag from him. The _why’d you stay over again, you know we have practice this morning_ and _can you take better care of your health, for once, please_ rise up and die in his throat, and he sighs as he follows the leader to the kitchen. “You should get some rest.”

“Slept at the studio,” Chan rubs his eyes, barely flashing a smile in thanks. “Time waits for no man,” he jokes, pouring himself some water.

“Proper, lie-down, REM sleep,” Woojin says, watching Chan carefully. The other man’s hands are trembling when he tilts the jug, so the water sloshes, spilling over the rim of the cup.

“M’okay,” Chan takes a slow, shaky sip. He’s gripping the counter, Woojin realises, so tight his knuckles are white. He puts down the cup, leaning against the cool white surface as the kids bustle around them; Felix and Seungmin getting ready to head out, Minho and Changbin arguing about supplements and Jisung hammering on the door because Hyunjin’s locked him out. Only Jeongin seems to be aware of what’s happening, watching Woojin and Chan pensively from behind his mug of milk.

Carefully, Woojin shifts so that he blocks Jeongin’s line of sight, lowering his voice. “C’mon, just lie down for a while. I’ll go with the,” he stops himself from saying _the kids_ just in time, because that sounds dangerously domestic and also potentially extremely awkward. “The rest to the studio first,” he chooses his next words carefully. “We’re almost done with the choreo, anyway. Just touching up stuff today. Nothing too serious.”

Talking to Chan when he’s like this is like playing that alligator game, the one where you have to gingerly reach in and press the teeth down, and hope the jaws don’t snap shut on your finger. Woojin is probably the only one on the team who can actually play to win. Then again, Woojin also has a lot of bruised fingers.

Chan looks away for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, maybe just a sec.”

The eldest lets out a breath of relief that he hopes isn’t too obvious, stepping towards the doorway. “I’ll bring you more water. And some bread. Felix bought some yester-…”

The first thing that hits the floor is the cup, plastic bouncing off the ceramic and spilling water across the floor.

Woojin turns around, muscles already wound from nerves, and maybe that’s what lets him reach out just in time to break Chan’s fall, knees buckling from the sudden impact.

Jeongin lets out a panicked _hyung_ just as Woojin shouts out for Changbin, and there’s a smattering of footsteps into the kitchen.

Immediately, the eldest curses himself for panicking, as he looks back into six worried pairs of eyes, and a hubbub of anxious voices.

“It’s okay, it’s okay Innie,” Woojin changes tact, trying to steady his breathing on his own. “Changbin, could you help me get Chan to your room?”

“I’ll call Manager,” Minho volunteers, already taking out his phone.

“Ahh, hyung probably just overworked himself again,” Changbin catches onto what Woojin’s trying to do, helping to lift Chan by the legs. “I _told_ him to come back early last night. He’ll be fine once he gets a decent amount of sleep.”

Woojin’s heart is pounding as they carry Chan to the bedroom. The leader stirs slightly when he lift him onto his bed, eyelids fluttering but remaining closed, and Woojin kneels by his bed, pressing a hand to his forehead and feeling his pulse. It doesn’t feel like a fever, though his skin is pale and he’s shivering ever so slightly.

“Is he okay?” Felix peers in, eyes wide, followed by Jisung and Hyunjin.

“He’s fine, doesn’t even have a fever,” Woojin reassures them, adjusting the sheets. “Probably just exhaustion from staying up one night too many.”

Jisung looks stricken as he huddles by Chan’s bedside. “It’s my fault-…Changbin and I should’ve pushed him harder to come back earlier last night.”

“Sungie, we know you’re brilliant songwriter, not a fortune teller,” Woojin rolls his eyes, lightly pushing Jisung’s forehead. “Don’t _worry_ , neither you nor Changbin could’ve seen this coming. Chan just needs some rest, and he’ll be better.”

Jisung laughs nervously, perching his chin on Chan’s mattress and watching his face carefully, as if by staring hard enough, he could make the other man wake up again.

Woojin glances once at Chan, and the peacefully rested expression on his face, and sighs, pulling the comforter over him. _At least, I hope so._

*

Their manager shows up 10 minutes later, head and shoulders above the sea of anxious 2000-liners as he wades over to Chan’s room. He pinches the bridge of his nose in exhaustion as Woojin relays the story of what’d happened this morning.

“Let him sleep,” he says eventually, checking his phone for their schedule today. “I’ll drive him to the hospital for a vitamin infusion if he’s still feeling under the weather later. You guys go for practice, I’ll text them that you’ll be late.”

“Okay,” Woojin steels himself with a breath. “Should someone should stay back to take care of Chan, hyung?”

“What do you guys have now? Dance, right?”

“Yeah,” Woojin says hopefully, running through the pre-rehearsed speech in his head. “I could-…”

“Minho,” their manager says at the same time, gesturing for the main dancer to come over. “You’ve got the choreo all down already, right? Keep an eye on Chan, make sure he gets lots of fluids and stays in bed when he wakes up, okay?”

“Oh,” Minho nods, concerned. “Yeah, sure hyung.”

“You were saying?” Their manager glances back at the vocalist, fingers busy sending off a text to the choreographer.

“Nothing,” Woojin mumbles. “I’ll…go make sure the rest are ready to go.”

Minho catches his eye as he starts to leave, questioning look morphing into something devious when he glances at Chan, then back at Woojin.

“Actually, hyung-…” he grins, as he turns to their manager, already walking off.

“ _No_ , no,” Woojin all but claps a hand over Minho’s mouth, shaking his head with a grin. “He’s right, my dancing sucks, I can’t afford to lose a session of practice.”

“Well,” the dancer lowers his voice, waggling his eyebrows. “All due respect, hyung, but this would be a _great_ time to get some action with-…”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence,” Woojin points, raising a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m going to go change now.”

He can hear Minho imitating him as he leaves the room, and sighs, brow furrowing slightly when he thinks back to the events of this morning. Sure, passing it off as exhaustion would be the easiest thing to do, but Chan’s never passed out before, not even during the survival show rush.

And definitely not in front of the kids. He’d probably walk his dead body out of view through sheer power of will.

_So why today…?_

“Hyung, are we going?” Felix barges into the room, grabbing his bag and a hoodie, and Woojin nods, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily to straighten his thoughts.

“Yeah. Let me just get changed real quick, let’s go,” he forces a smile, heading out after the younger boy. _It’s probably nothing, you’re just overthinking._

_You think too much about him as it is, anyway._

*

The day drags on agonisingly slow, and Jisung and Hyunjin yell out the updates that Minho sends through their group chat during the breaks. Woojin’s relieved when he hears that Chan’s woken up that afternoon, but all this does is make him more agitated to hurry and get back, before the other man can slip through their fingers again.

He doesn't expect the relief to continue the moment he walks through the door that evening, but lucky for him, life doesn't exactly care about what he expects.

Minho bounds up from the couch, taking out his earpieces, crying out in relief. 

"Thank goodness, I was so _bored_ ," he moans, slouching over to poke at the plastic bag in Woojin's hands. "Where's my food?" 

"Oops, we forgot," the eldest grins just long enough to see the devastated look on Minho's face, before laughing. "It's with Jisung, we went to separate places to get it. Why aren't you bothering Chan?"

"First of all, my presence is _many_ things hyung - a bother isn’t one of them," Minho struts around him, before rolling his eyes. "Also, he thinks whatever hit him could be a stomach bug, he didn't want me to catch it. _Ugh_ , what'd I stay back for, then, right?"

Woojin sighs, heading over to the bedroom as the kids explode in a ruckus behind him (something to do with Felix bumping into Jisung while trying to get into the house and spilling the soup) and knocks twice, before pushing open the door.

A weight rolls right off his shoulders at the sight of Chan upright on his bed, laptop on his bed, surrounded by notebooks and headphones around his neck.

The other man raises a brow. "Did you seriously just knock? In this household?"

"Sue me for being polite," Woojin grins, walking over. "How do you feel?"

"Better. The excessive bed rest was pretty good, I actually finished a song," Chan snorts, reclining back against his pillow. "I could get used to this."

"Yeah, and then tomorrow I'm going to have to cart you back from the studio at 8am again," Woojin rolls his eyes, before propping the plastic bag against the mattress. "We got you some tofu stew, Hyunjin insisted that you ate something soft."

"Sheesh, it's stomach flu, not _dentures_ ," Chan grumbles, and Woojin barks out a laugh.

"Wouldn't know about that, you do seem the right age for them-..."

"Right back at you," Chan snorts, shifting the laptop as he gets up. Woojin watches him carefully, vigilant for any unsteadiness, but he manages pretty well on his own - huh, maybe he really is feeling better.

_Strange, though, if it was a stomach bug, why didn't I feel a fever this morning?_

"I'm not going to spontaneously combust, Jinnie, you can stop looking at me like that," Chan nudges him lightly, his touch warm and gentle, before taking the stew and lifting it for a sniff. "Smells good." 

"Just don't faint on us again," Woojin mumbles, hefting his bag higher. 

Chan stiffens momentarily, and Woojin regrets speaking for a second. "C'mon, before Jisung eats all the food-..."

"It won't happen again," Chan says, shoulders straight. 

Woojin watches him, elbowing the other man lightly with a small smile. "You know I'm kidding, right? We're always here for you. We just want you to be safe.”

The other man laughs, that gentle, ridiculously attractive laugh that’s more of a sigh than a smile, the one that makes his eyes curve into dark, sad crescents. Woojin finds himself staring, drinking in that lovely, quiet mirth, feeling like an absolute fool.

 _A nation of people would die for this smile_ , the thought crosses his mind. _I’m just another one on the laundry list of suckers._

“Thanks,” Chan murmurs, eyes darting away. The lighting in their room is cheap and harsh, but it still illuminates his face in lovely ways.

Then the door bangs open, and Jisung and Hyunjin thunder in, closely followed by Felix, octopus wrapping themselves around Chan and wailing about how the choreographer was bullying them today when Chan wasn’t around. Woojin smiles, watching the leader get dragged out for an intensive cuddle session.

They end up on the floor in the living room, talking about the choreo and vocal lessons today, Chan eating his dinner with some difficulty because Hyunjin’s latched onto his arm and Jisung is curled up at his other side. Even Jeongin, ever repellent to cuddles, is leaning against the leader’s back, watching mukbang videos on his phone.

Woojin sits with Seungmin at the other end of the table, chewing on pear slices while reviewing their practice from earlier in the day.

“Not joining in the reunion party?” Woojin chances eventually, after they run through the whole video once. Seungmin snorts.

“No thanks, I’m not a pre-schooler,” the younger boy says, not taking his eyes off the iPad. “Plus, I just think it’s weird.”

“People expressing affection through physical contact, an established love language? Unthinkable.”

“ _No_ , hyung,” Seungmin laughs, pushing at him lightly. “About this morning. And how…Chan-hyung didn’t get a fever.”

Woojin raises a brow. “You noticed that too?”

Seungmin nods. “Plus the trembling this morning, and the fact that we’re practically together _all_ the time - we share food and water bottles in the studio and everything. Why’d only he get sick? It just doesn’t feel like the usual stomach flu, you know?”

“What do you think it could be?”

“Nah, I’m probably just overthinking it,” Seungmin sighs, leaning back on one hand. He sinks into a morose silence for a while, before jabbing the screen of iPad. “I hate the choreo for this one, by the way. Why do I look dumb doing everything?”

Woojin laughs, reaching over to throw an arm around the younger boy. “You don’t, Minnie, and even if you did, then at least we’ll all look dumb together.”

“Not exactly the hill I want to die on,” the younger boy grumbles, but he can’t hide his smile, anyway.

They disperse to their nightly routines eventually, taking turns to wash up and brush their teeth. Woojin finds himself walking past Chan's room at eleven, listening to the murmur of voices in the room, the sound of 3RACHA making magic within the four walls of their little bedroom. He pauses outside, knocking twice, before pushing the door open.

"Did you just knock?" Changbin says, a pencil between his teeth. "In this household?"

"That's what _I_ said," Chan doubles over in laughter, reaching over for a high-five. 

"All of you are heathens," Woojin accuses, walking in. "How's the next smash hit of 2019 coming along?" 

"Pretty good. Want to be our guest of honour, hyung?" Jisung holds out an earbud, then puts it back, sticking out his tongue. "Just kidding."

"I'm revoking your adulthood license," Woojin eyeballs him as he walks around Changbin, who guffaws. Quietly, he hands a flask to Chan. "Here's some warm honey water. My mom used to give it to me when I fell sick." 

Chan beams, cheeks dusting with just the slightest tinge of vermillion, as he takes the flask - honestly, is it possible for anyone to look this _cute_ whilst sick? "Thanks." 

Woojin is very aware that the two behind him are suddenly being very quiet.

"Sleep early," he warns, turning around to eye them. Jisung is biting onto his lower lip, trying his best not to smile, while Changbin at least tries to look attentive. "Especially you, Sungie, Seungmin told me he had to throttle you awake this morning." 

"Yes, _dad_ ," Jisung huffs. "And shouldn't that be more on Seungmin than me?"

"Don't call me that. And I don't know about that, prior experience waking you up has me more on his side," Woojin reaches down to ruffle his hair affectionately, turning around to catch one last glance of Chan, before leaving the room. "Night, guys."

As soon as he closes the door, the room seems to explode in muffled hoots, followed quickly by an exasperated shushing. Woojin rolls his eyes before heading back to his room, unable to deny the smile or the embarrassing, momentary happiness that flutters up in his chest.

The same happiness that disappears when Woojin’s shaken awake by Jeongin the next morning, Seungmin right behind him.

"Hyung,” the youngest says, eyes wide with anxiety. The dorm is quiet, vestiges of night still clinging to the sky outside, and every breath is a shock of cold to Woojin’s lungs.

“Chan-hyung locked himself in the bathroom, he won’t let anyone in. He told us to get you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, BIG thank to ray for betaing despite not knowing much about skz other than the fact that woojin can tell fried chicken brands apart by tasting them
> 
> comments and kudos will be appreciated...!! (if it makes a difference, the title of this fic is significant to the plot of the story hehe!) 
> 
> hope you guys have a great day! hmu on twitter @goldengyeom, let's be mutuals! ;u;
> 
>  
> 
> p.s.  
> ray: ohmyGOD is he pregnant  
> me: .....n o? ??


	2. 002.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hyung,” the youngest says, eyes wide with anxiety. The dorm is quiet, vestiges of night still clinging to the sky outside, and every breath is a shock of cold to Woojin’s lungs. 
> 
> “Chan-hyung locked himself in the bathroom, he won’t let anyone in. He told us to get you.”

Woojin is up and alert in five blinks, even remembering to smile and pat Jeongin on the shoulder reassuringly, though his heart is pounding in his chest.

The youngest two trail after him like lost ducklings as he strides out into the hall, before knocking lightly on the door.

The lock turns before he even says a word.

“Hey,” Woojin says, slipping in and closing the door behind him. Even in the cold, the lingering smell of stomach acid hits him immediately.

Chan is on the floor, hunched over the toilet bowl, looking exhausted. His face is paler than it was yesterday, and he’s shivering again – _why now_ , when he’d gotten better last night?

“Good morning,” the leader mumbles, lifting his head when Woojin approaches with a cold towel. “The kids still outside?”

“Yeah,” Woojin says, wiping the younger man’s face with the damp towel, combing his hair out of his eyes. “How long have you been in here?”

“Just,” the leader grumbles, obediently holding his head up and closing his eyes while Woojin runs the towel down his face. He dry heaves suddenly, gripping Woojin’s wrist tight to push him away. “ _Ugh_.”

“Let’s go back to bed. I’ll bring you a pail,” Woojin rubs his shoulders, muscles wound tight under his fingers. “You need to rest.”

“’M fine, I gotta go to the studio.”

“ _Chan_.”

“I missed out a whole day yesterday,” the leader insists stubbornly. “The production team wants the songs by _this_ weekend.”

“Then I’ll call manager and he’ll tell them to shut it and wait a week more, because a very expensive asset is currently overworked and suffering the consequences,” Woojin frowns as he runs the towel over Chan’s mouth again. “You need to _rest and recover_ , and going to the studio when you’re like this is _not_ going to make that happen.”

“But-…”

“Chan _,_ ” Woojin says, then, looking the other man directly in the eye. His voice is firm, but he cradles the back of Chan’s head, running his fingers through the mess of blond curls. Quieter, he continues. “Let us take care of you.”

Chan stares up at Woojin, blinking, and for a moment, Woojin worries, wondering if he’d overstepped a boundary there. But then Chan looks away, nodding numbly. He leans, forehead coming to rest against Woojin’s stomach, eyes fluttering shut and open from exhaustion, clutching onto the hem of the other man’s thin T-shirt.

“I gotta drop by the studio at least. Pick up a couple of things,” he mumbles. Woojin knows that this is the closest he’ll ever get to a surrender from Chan, at a time like this, and he should be grateful.

“I’ll go with you?” he murmurs, continuing to run his fingers through Chan’s hair, feeling a prickly, painful sort of warmth at how intimate this feels, knowing it’s just a conversation between two band members and nothing more. “The moment you feel okay enough to leave.”

“Don’t we have practice today?”

“It’s our off day, remember?” Woojin chuckles. “I’ll call Manager to see if he can drop us off.”

“No, no, that means today’s his off day too,” Chan shakes his head. “Let’s not bother him while he’s out with his girlfriend, she needs to remember he exists. I’m not _dying_ , we can walk.”

Ah, yes, that’s the Chan that Woojin knows. Always prioritising others above himself, even after spending the past fifteen minutes turning his guts inside out into the toilet bowl.

“Then we’ll visit the doctor,” Woojin finds himself daring to add. “Just a quick one. Get some meds to recover faster, then you can come back and continue working on your songs.”

Chan hesitates at the mention of the doctor, but reconsiders at the prospect of a faster recovery. Eventually, he nods, pushing himself into a standing position and setting the lid down to flush the toilet. “It’s just stomach flu, nothing serious.”

The oldest shrugs, rinsing the towel out in the sink. “That, or pregnancy.”

 _That_ makes Chan laugh, voice still rough from throwing up, and he leans against Woojin, forehead pressed against his shoulder.

“Thanks, I needed that. Wanna be my co-parent?”

“Aren’t I already?” Woojin says, before he can think it through.  _Wow, thanks for making it awkward, dumbass_. Beating himself up internally, he thrusts a cup of mouthwash over. If Chan’s looking at him funny because of what he said, he doesn’t see it. “Rinse out your mouth and let’s get ready to go.”

“Yes, mom,” Chan rolls his eyes, taking the mouthwash and rinsing out his mouth.

“ _You’re_ the mom,” Woojin mumbles, watching the other man carefully, one hand still around his waist, just in case.

“Right, sorry, you’re the dad,” Chan spits out the mouthwash, before splashing water on his face. He grabs another towel off the rack (Woojin really hopes it’s clean) and buries his face in it.

“Don’t call me that,” Woojin snorts, taking out the air freshener to spray it across the room, relieved that they’d decided to invest in some. Nine boys sharing one apartment has its merits and its setbacks. He looks at the door, reluctant to let go of Chan. “Want me to ward off the kids?”

Chan’s watching him, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking from just his eyes, peeking out over the towel through the wet strands of his bangs. Then he smiles, hiding his face back in the towel. “Thanks.”

Woojin unlocks the door, then, and predictably, Jeongin and Seungmin are standing right outside, eyes wide.

“He’s okay, don’t worry,” he eases the door open, and Chan walks through, back straight, laughing sheepishly. Woojin doesn’t know how he does it, how he shelves all his pain and unsteadiness in front of the other members, as if it’s a costume he takes off and puts on whenever he feels like it.

“I’m fine, just feeling a little off,” Chan pats Jeongin’s arm as he walks by. “Where are you headed now?”

“We were going for extra dance practice,” Seungmin says cautiously, approaching Chan. “Hyung, maybe you should…see the doctor?”

“Heading there now,” Woojin says, holding back a smile at the stunned looks on both Seungmin’s and Jeongin’s faces at that. Chan agreeing to go to the doctor when he’s sick happens about as often as him going to bed at a decent hour. “I know, right?”

“It’s a good thing!” Jeongin interjects, before Chan can take it back. “We’ll manage fine by ourselves at self-prac, Jisung’s going to help us with vocal practice too. Please go to the doctor, hyung.”

“I’ll still be coming by to check on you guys,” Chan warns, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He touches Woojin’s arm suddenly, and the older man panics for a moment, wondering if he’s feeling unsteady or nauseous, but the physical contact is casual and calm. It occurs to Woojin belatedly that Chan might just holding his arm because he wants to, and the thought of that may or may not be sending him into intermediate stages of cardiac arrest. “I’ll be back soon.”

To his credit (the little brat), Jeongin catches on a lot faster than Seungmin does, his dark foxy eyes darting towards Chan’s hand and back up, all in less than a second, and a grin splits his youthful face.

“No, no hyung, take your time, take all the time you need!” he starts dragging Seungmin into the now empty bathroom, the vocalist shooting him a confused look. “Enjoy yourselves!”

The door shuts, and delighted whispering erupts from right behind it. Slightly disgruntled, Woojin follows Chan into his room (though it’s not like he has much of a choice, being tethered at the elbow), where Changbin is still snoring securely, laptop under his bed from last night’s composing work, Gyu in his arms. If Chan had made anything of that little incident with their maknaes, he isn’t showing it.

“So,” the leader sighs, grabbing a hoodie off his bed. “To the studio first, or the doctor’s?”

*

They decide to head to the doctor afterwards, because neither of them are sure what time the clinic opens, and neither of them can be bothered to pull up the webpage to check. Instead they drop by the studio, where Woojin hovers threateningly over Chan until he reluctantly throws some things together in a bag and they head out together.

It’s still early, so they grab breakfast together at the tiny family diner near the office building. Woojin knows Chan likes the place a little further up, but the other man had leaned onto him suddenly in the elevator just now, blinking rapidly and mumbling about waiting for a second. He hadn’t let go after that, even as they walked right through the lobby and out the front doors – he must _really_ be feeling awful. Woojin had decided to settle for the nearest decent food place, after that.

Once they’re seated in the diner, Woojin steers them towards the porridge and soups, thinking of Chan’s stomach and how he might not be able to hold down anything else.

“The _dakjuk_ here is great, but don’t think I can finish one by myself,” Chan admits as they pore over the menu.

“We can share,” Woojin suggests, before ordering one.

Chan frowns slightly as the ahjumma taking their orders heads off to deal with the rest of the breakfast crowd. They’re tucked into a corner of the restaurant, in dark jeans, sneakers and hoodies pulled over their heads, and while the look basically screams _idol_ , everyone here doesn't seem to care.

“Are you dieting again?”

“I uhm. Went up by 0.2,” Woojin takes a cautious sip of water. Honestly, would it kill Chan to redirect an ounce of the personal interest he takes in the well-being of everyone else towards his own health, for once?

_But then he wouldn’t be Chan. You know that._

“ _Woojin_. You know putting on weight’s a normal part of bulking up-…”

“But I’m _not_ bulking up. You know I don’t do weights like you guys,” Woojin chuckles, starting to distribute cutlery because he needs something to occupy his hands, which are starting to fidget, like they do every time people start talking about him, be it to his face or behind his back. “You and Changbin and Felix have the nice muscles.”

“Woojin,” Chan says plainly. “You do know that if you accidentally walked into Changbin a little too hard, he’d probably enter hyperspace, right?”

 _That_ makes Woojin laugh, drawing a few stares in the process, and he leans against the wall, pulling his hood up further, embarrassed. “I’m telling him you said that.”

“Well, it’s _true_. Abs are the useless showy muscles, yours are elsewhere. Trust me,” he puffs out his chest. “I was a natural science student.”

“Yeah, Mr The-spinal-cord-leads-to-the-stomach,” Woojin snickers. “It doesn’t matter, anyway – I’m enough _bulk_ as it is, don’t you think? If I put on more mass, the stylists might _really_ petition to get me off the team then.”

Something clicks behind Chan’s eyes, and they narrow. “So it was the stylists? They said something again?”

Woojin stops, knowing he’s slipped up. “They’re just doing their job,” he mumbles. “It’s on them to make us look good for the fans.”

Chan’s eyes soften, then. “You always look good.”

Well. Woojin doesn’t exactly know what to say to that. On one hand, it’s a very Chan thing to say – sincere, genuine encouragement to a teammate, to Changbin when he’s feeling insecure about how he looks on camera, or to Jeongin when he messes up a dance move.

But on the other hand, he’s never heard it like _this_ before, not murmured across a tiny wooden table at the back of a crowded diner, when they’re so close their knees bump, and Woojin can see every fibre of truth glowing in Chan’s eyes.

“You too,” is what he eventually manages, forcing a smile. He thanks every higher power when the porridge is served, then, turning his thoughts away from what Chan’d said and instead devoting his attention to forcing the other man to eat as much porridge as he can manage.

*

The clinic is thankfully empty when they walk in, and Chan’s queue number is called pretty quickly. They get called into a spacious, sterile office, where Chan sits in a padded examination chair, and Woojin hovers on the edge of the uncomfortable plastic chair placed at the side for family and friends.

The doctor goes through a list of the standard check-ups, though he pauses frequently when Chan describes his symptoms, asking him to go through each one. It strikes a chord of uncertainty in Woojin, because they’d all been sure up to this point that it was stomach flu – why was it taking so long?”

“How many times did you throw up yesterday?”

“Once,” Chan admits. He glances back once at Woojin, uncertainly, and the other man immediately works an encouraging expression on his face, not wanting Chan to hold back any details. “In the early afternoon. But I felt loads better at night, it's just this morning when it got worse again.”

“Could you describe the headaches and dizzy spells you talked about just now?”

“They kind of came and went. The dizziness was worse when I was walking around.”

So Woojin was right, Chan _had_ been feeling dizzy. Again, he berates himself for not calling a cab this morning, he should've been more observant.

“No fever?”

“No.”

“Did anyone living with you get it too?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Any diarrhoea?”

Chan squints, trying to remember. “Yeah? Yesterday afternoon and yesterday night, around three in the morning.”

_He hadn’t told me he woke up halfway last night._

The doctor studies his notes. In Woojin’s opinion, it looks like a bunch of ants dunked themselves in ink and did the cha-cha across the paper. Then he looks up between the two of them, cautiously.

“You two are idols, right?”

Chan looks surprised, but Woojin supposes they should’ve expected it. With the clinic being so close to the office building and the dorms, he probably gets JYP idols and trainees in here all the time.

“Yeah,” Chan still looks a bit stunned, but he bows all the same, grinning weakly and doing their greeting. “Step out, Stray Kids.”

The doctor offers an obligatory laugh. Then his next question gives Woojin pause.

“Do you eat food gifted by your fans?”

“Uhm,” Chan glances back again – the third time he’s done it. Without knowing why, Woojin reaches across the tiny space behind the desk, hand settling on the small of Chan’s back in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. The other man seems to relax a little after that, words flowing easier. “Officially, no, because of safety regulations. But sometimes we compromise on the, the-…”

“The sealed food items, right?” Again, Woojin is surprised by how much this doctor knows. Maybe he gets idols from other companies, too. Then the doctor looks directly at them, folding his arms on the table calmly in a way that all doctors seem to do. Maybe they teach it in medical school. “Has your company ever warned you about poisoning cases before?”

And _this_ is what floors them.

Woojin can’t wrap his mind around it – _their_ fans, their precious Stays, _poisoning_ food they give to them? “It’s poison? For sure?”

“The symptoms correlate, and it’s happened before, so it can’t be ruled out,” the doctor continues carefully. “The food packets may be sealed, but there’s all sorts of technology out there these days,” he wrinkles his nose, like it’s an infectious disease. “We’ll do a urine test to confirm it. If you leave your manager’s details at the front desk, we can get the results back to you within a couple of working days.”

“Is there anything he can take? In the meantime?” Woojin doesn’t know why he’s feeling so uneasy about this.

“If it’s really a poisoning case, the dose isn’t very high, so we’ll give you some chelation pills. The important thing is to ensure the source is removed.”

“It’s fine,” Chan whispers, turning back with a reassuring smile, before looking back at the doctor. “Is there anything else I should take note of?”

“If the symptoms worsen before you get the test results, pay a visit to A&E – in the meantime, get lots of rest and stay hydrated until the poison’s flushed from your body,” he offers a wry smile. “And all the best for your comeback preparation. My daughter’s a fan.”

*

Woojin has to pull Chan away from the office before he can offer to give the doctor’s kid a signed CD, and they end up sitting on the padded benches in the bright, clean waiting area after Chan’s test is done, waiting for the prescription.

“So,” the older boy starts. “Poison, huh.”

“I don’t get it,” Chan sighs. “Our fans wouldn’t do that.”

Woojin’s lips thin. “Might have been an anti, maybe? You’re close to Bambam, right? Want to ask him if Got7’s ever had something like this?”

“I texted him when we left the doctor's office,” Chan shrugs. “He’s got schedule today, I don’t know when he’ll – oh,” he wriggles his phone out of his pocket, looking surprised. “Well, looks like today’s our lucky day,” Chan accepts the call, putting it on speaker, just loud enough for them to hear. “Hey, Bam?”

“ _Chanerooooo,_ ” the Thai prince drawls into the phone, and Chan laughs. It’s always nice, Woojin thinks, seeing how close they are, how relaxed Chan is around Bambam.

(It’s also a bit of a downer, sometimes, that Woojin won't ever be able to make Chan as happy as he is around the other boy, which is dumb and irrational, because if anyone deserves to always be happy, it’s Chan.)

“Woojin’s here too,” Chan waves the phone, prompting the other boy to speak.

“Hello,” Woojin says, hoping he doesn’t sound too stiff – joining the company late meant he didn’t know the other 97-liners, like Jihyo and Yugyeom and Bambam, as well as Chan did. “Hope we’re not intruding on your schedule.”

“ _Oh nah, don’t worry about it, we’re on break now,”_ Bambam continues. Then he switches to English, sounding a lot more snide than he had before. “And yeah, Chan, I figured, since you don’t speak to me in Korean unless _somebody’s_ -…”

“And you can shut up unless you want me to tell Jaebum-ssi what you did to his socks last Christmas,” Chan continues in rapid-fire English, face red.

Woojin glances cluelessly at the phone, then to Chan – he hadn’t managed to catch much in that conversation other than the names, and something about socks.

Bambam is howling laughter into the other end of the phone, and Chan rolls his eyes. “So did you see my text or not, Bam?”

“ _Yeah_ , _whoo_ ,” the other man sounds like he’s wiping away tears. _“It happened once before, I told you about it, don’t you remember?”_

“Uhm, I must’ve forgotten, sorry.”

 _“About the-…no, screw off, Gyeom, trying to talk to my best friend here - that's_ right _, it's not you. Uh, Jinyoung hyung ate a bakery fruit tart and he was out of commission for a couple of days. Doctor said it could be poisoning, since he didn’t get a fever and he passed out during rehearsal. The toilet bowl was a biohazard those few days,_ ” Bambam starts laughing again, then screams, and there’s the sound of rustling and hasty footsteps, like he’s trying to escape a headlock. “ _Anyway, why the sudden question?”_

Chan gnaws his lower lip. “Dunno. I just went to the doctor,” he admits. “He thinks it could be that.”

“ _Oh. Wait, serious?”_ Bambam’s voice tones down a notch. “ _Take care, man, drink lots of water. Clean out your fridge, Jaebum hyung made us spring clean the whole house for potential hazards_ ,” he switches back to English again. “Which was totally favouritism, if you ask me, because when _I_ got sick-…”

There’s another scream, and then the choking sound of Bambam successfully being put into a headlock.

“Sounds like you need taking care of yourself,” Chan snorts. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“ _Don’t worry about it, part and parcel of being an idol_ ,” the other 97-liner says breathlessly. “ _Make sure you tell your manager_ ,” he goes back to English one last time, sounding cheeky. “And I don’t know why I’m telling you to take care of yourself, when you probably want _someone_ to-…”

Chan hangs up, a wholly unimpressed look on his face.

“What’s that last bit he said?” Woojin asks, trying not to sound like he cares too much.

“That he had to get back to schedule,” the leader sighs. “Anyway, guess we gotta start cleaning once we get back to the dorms.”

Woojin takes in the sight of Chan, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, staring into the distance, and feels the need to smile encouragingly. “Hey. They’re going to take it fine, Chan. They’re stronger than you give them credit for.”

The younger man’s shoulders seem to relax, and his dimples come out when he smiles, then, making Woojin’s heart skip a beat like he’s in middle school again, crushing on the girl sitting two seats away with the bright voice and the cute pigtails.

“Thanks,” he whispers.

Then, on the spur of the moment, Woojin reaches over, taking Chan’s hand in his, enveloping the other man’s fingers with his own, resting their hands between them on the other man’s thigh.

 _You dumbass, what excuses do you have now_ , a voice is screaming at him in his head. It’s a friends thing, he desperately tries to tell himself in his head. Bros hold hands all the time. Shooting down acts of physical affection between guy friends is toxic masculinity, right?

Except Woojin knows he definitely wants to be more than friends with Chan. And this is starting to sound dangerously like an awful 8pm cable drama his mother used to watch when he was a kid, so he’s going to stop this train of thought right here.

And oh no, Chan’s looking at him now, an expression of surprise adorning his soft, tired features, and there’s absolutely no way Woojin can let go of him now. Or lie to him, if Chan were to ask him what he was doing.

But Chan does neither of those. Instead he looks away, towards the screen, now playing some infomercial on (ironically) hand-washing, blush dusting the apples of his pale cheeks again, the brief tightening of his hand around Woojin’s fingers the only indication that he’d realised what they were doing.

They stay like that, locked together in a comforting silence, until the receptionist calls Chan’s number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise guys chan's not pregnant
> 
> first of all, super big thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter! ;u; u guys really gave me strength to finish writing this one hehe! i projected a total of about 7 chapters but each chapter is getting pretty long so i think there'll be a total of 5-6 (?) chapters maybe? so things will be happening prEE fast after this
> 
> really looking forward to reading your theories and comments ;u; kudos and comments will be dearly loved and hugged!!
> 
> p.s. there's going to be one more pairing hinted at here guys!!! vote on your phones now  
> p.p.s. ray, after betaing this: "he's not pregnant what's the point"


	3. 003.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, oh no, Chan’s looking at him, now, an expression of surprise adorning his soft, tired features, and there’s absolutely no way Woojin can let go of him now. Or lie to him, if Chan asked him what he was doing.
> 
> But Chan does neither of those. Instead he looks away, towards the screen, now playing some infomercial on (ironically) hand-washing, blush dusting the apples of his pale cheeks again, the brief tightening of his hand around Woojin’s fingers the only indication that he’d realised what they were doing.
> 
> They stay like that, locked together in a comforting silence, until the receptionist calls Chan’s number.

“The doctor said it was _what_?”

“He said it c _ould be_ , it’s not confirmed,” Chan rephrases, ruffling Hyunjin’s hair, the younger boy looking absolutely devastated. “We won’t know for sure until the test results come out. In the meantime,” he’s actively trying to play it off, Woojin can tell, because he’s scared about how they’ll react. “I called Bambam, and he says maybe we could clear out some of the fan-gifted food we still keep. Just in case.”

Woojin toes off his shoes in the doorway, smiling as he pads over. “It’s actually just a ruse on Chan’s part to get us to clean the house.”

His heart does _not_ flutter at the appreciative glance Chan sends him. Hyunjin laughs, then, and Seungmin groans from where he’s sprawled out on the sofa. “ _Finally_.”

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be at extra self-prac?’

“Jeongin and I wanted to wait until you got back. Hyunjin and Minho stayed to annoy us,” Seungmin’s eyes narrow, flinching as Hyunjin gleefully drapes himself over the other boy. “The rest left for the studio first, but they’ve been asking about you all morning.”

“I’m _fine_ , see? Nothing wrong,” Chan strikes a cheesy pose, and Jeongin laughs from where he’s curled up at a corner of the couch, watching something on his phone. “Now you rascals better stay to help spring clean.”

It takes talking down a bit (a lot) of groaning and bargaining, but they eventually get down to it. They make quick work of the fridge – it’s a small fridge, and they haven’t really been around much to leave food in it.

“I was _really_ looking forward to these,” Hyunjin sighs wistfully, tossing a pack of dried mangoes into the plastic box Chan’s brought out. There isn’t much fan-gifted stuff to begin with, since they’re off promotions now, and Woojin’s relieved when they move on to the pantry pretty quickly.

“We’re not _throwing_ them away, just setting them aside until things get better,” Chan reminds them, arranging cans of coffee in the box. “We don’t want any more of us getting sick, right?”

In retrospect, though, it doesn’t make sense – Chan’s barely around the dorms long enough to sleep and get a hot shower, and he doesn’t even touch the food in the house unless he’s cooking for them. He doesn’t like most junk food, doesn’t drink canned coffee or bottled tea, and hates soda with a passion, automatically ruling out most of the food the fans give them.

“Jeongin,” Woojin says absently, then, as he tosses a chocopie into the box. Reluctantly, the maknae reseals the pack of chocolates.

“These were probably really expensive,” the younger boy huffs, holding up the mini pack of Belgium chocolates.

“What if you get sick?” Woojin shuffles over to mess with his hair, chuckling when Jeongin pouts, tossing the chocolates in the box. “Like Chan said, anyway, we’re not throwing them away. If we find whatever’s the source of the poison, we can put these back.”

“So it really was poison?” Jeongin’s eyes go wide. He looks troubled. “Why would anyone want to poison Chan?”

Woojin chooses his words carefully. “We don’t know for sure yet. But if it is,” he smiles wryly. “There are all sorts of people out there. We just need to be careful and look out for each other.”

Jeongin still doesn’t look satisfied, squinting when Woojin messes his hair again playfully. “You’ll look after him, right hyung?”

The words take a second to register, and Woojin has to unfreeze his body before he can manage a chiding smile. For some reason, the look on Jeongin’s face is oddly… _genuine_.

“Of course. We’re _all_ looking after him, Innie. And each other.”

“But he doesn’t _let_ all of us look after him,” the younger boy pouts again. “Only you.”

Hearing it like that from someone else, their _maknae_ of all people, makes Woojin’s head spin – was this something they thought? Something they saw when they looked at the two of them?

“Don’t be silly Innie,” Woojin struggles to phrase it. “He’s close to all of us, especially you, Innie.”

“I know,” Jeongin says cheekily, before sticking out his tongue, giggling when Woojin pushes him away. “You and Binnie-hyung are just the only ones he tells stuff to. _Especially you_ ,” he mimics. “It’s not a bad thing,” Jeongin shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I know he loves all of us equally, he just does it differently for different people.”

Woojin whistles, impressed despite himself. “Our maknae is so wise.”

“Of course,” the younger boy tosses his hair. “But it means you have to take care of him, hyung, because I don’t think he’s capable of doing that himself.”

“Tell me about it,” Woojin groans, tossing a couple of packets of seaweed in. Hyunjin and Seungmin stroll in to help, then, and Jeongin immediately shimmies over to join them, signalling the end of the conversation, but Woojin can’t help but think of what the maknae had said again.

_He doesn’t let all of us look after him. Only you._

That’s not true, Woojin frowns, continuing to clear out the pantry – all of them look out for Chan in their own ways. The leader probably tells Changbin way more stuff that he tells Woojin, stuff about music and lyrics and shared composer woes.

 _But he didn’t ask for Changbin this morning. He asked for you_.

Faster than it can take root in his head, Woojin shoots the thought down. _He just called for you because Changbin stayed up late to compose the night before. He’s always thinking about everyone’s well-being. Why should this morning be any different?_

The thought fills him with relief, that there’s a logical explanation for whatever’s going on, and he dumps the last pack of organic chips into the box.

“Done!” he shouts out into the living room. “No thanks to you little skivers,” he jibes, jabbing Jeongin’s forehead as he walks by the kids’ musketeer powwow. The maknae whines again, clutching his head protectively.

Then Chan walks into the kitchen and straight into Woojin mid-sentence, causing the pile of notebooks and files in his hands to clatter to the ground with an excessive fluttering of pages.

They’re a mess of _oh shit sorry_ and _no it’s fine_ for a moment, scrambling to pick everything up. Woojin glimpses a page of lyrics on an open hardcover notebook, and quickly averts his eyes, knowing Chan doesn’t like anyone outside of 3RACHA to see his songs before they’re done.

The kids have erupted into full-blown whisper-giggles behind them, not even lifting a finger to help the situation, and Woojin swears he even catches Hyunjin making filming gestures at them. He resists the urge to throw a chocopie at the younger boy.

Chan wobbles when he stands, notebooks gathered to his chest, and Woojin immediately reaches over to steady him, easing the books and files out of his hands. “You were saying?”

“Nothing, just,” Chan’s not meeting his eyes, cheeks dusted pink, instead clearing his throat, eyeballing the three kids. “Thanks for helping with the clearing, you guys should be heading off to self-practice soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry hyung!” Hyunjin salutes, and Jeongin whispers something to Seungmin that makes him laugh. “We’ll be out of your hair _really_ soon!”

“You know,” Chan grumbles, as the two oldest start to head off for Chan’s room. “Once upon a time, I was respected in this team.”

Woojin just sighs. “You and me both.”

*

The kids eventually leave for self-practice, but Minho and Woojin stick around. Woojin reasons that he can do his vocal practice in the dorm, and Minho insists that practice is for losers, but Chan still shoots both of them grateful smiles anyway.

Woojin’s relieved, actually, to have Minho around for the afternoon so it won’t be just the two of them. After this morning, all the weird thoughts that’d passed through his mind, it’s probably for the best.

None of their efforts, however, can beat Jisung, who ditches Changbin at their studio to come back the moment he hears Chan’s relegated to their dorm for another day. He bounces through the door with his backpack after lunch, tiny frame bundled up in a yellow duck hoodie and a baseball cap, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he beelines towards Chan’s room. Woojin has to resist the compulsive urge to do something potentially disrespectful, like squish his cheeks and kiss his forehead. Then-…

“Who’s a little baby,” Minho coos from right behind him, where he’s squishing Jisung’s cheeks, before poking the duck printed on Jisung’s hoodie like it’s a button. “That’s right, it’s _Jisungie._ Jisungie’s a little baby.”

“Hyunggg,” Jisung whines, voice muffled. Woojin rolls his eyes into the nearest wall, stifling a laugh when he catches Chan doing the same thing.

The rest of the day passes rather uneventfully – Jisung and Chan hole up in the 3RACHA bedroom, working on music and occasionally laughing loud enough for Woojin to hear from the next room. Woojin works on his breath control drills, while Minho dances (probably naked) in the 2000-liner bedroom. Dinnertime comes sooner than expected, and Woojin is just wrapping up his practice when Minho comes to complain about being hungry.

“I feel so _lazy_ ,” the dancer flops onto his bed. “Let’s call delivery. _Please_?”

“Why are you asking me?” Woojin chuckles, shuffling through his scoresheets and tidying up the keyboard he’d temporarily set up in the middle of the room. “Shouldn’t you be asking Chan?”

“He’s been holed up in his room with Jisung _all day_ ,” Minho grumbles. “Besides, everyone knows he’ll say yes if you ask.”

Woojin threatens to throw the scorebook at him, and Minho shrieks, ducking behind his bed curtain.

“Then I’ll go buy some porridge back for Chan, I don’t think his stomach can take whatever you’re going to order,” he rolls his eyes, easing the keyboard back into its bag.

“Can’t we get it from the place we’re going to order from?”

“He likes the other one though, the one near the convenience store. It’s just a couple of blocks out.”

Minho raises a brow. “You really like him, don’t you hyung?”

The older boy’s hand slips while he’s folding up the portable keyboard stand, and he hisses, lifting his hand to examine the red welt starting to form on his thumb. “ _Minho_.”

“ _Hyung_. I’m serious,” the dancer props up his head on his hand. “You guys have been dancing around each other like two Hindi romance movie protagonists for _ages_. It’s obvious as hell he likes you back, so I think it’s high time you grow some balls and _go for it_.”

“First of all,” Woojin massages his temples. Trying to process everything Minho says on a daily basis is an intellectual exercise in itself. “What kind of movies have you been _watching_? And secondly, no, he doesn’t like me back, Minho.”

“Back!” the dancer perks up like a cat that’s just spotted a mouse, a cruel glint in his pretty eyes. “You said ‘back’. Which means you admit you like him.”

Woojin does end up throwing a scorebook at him, before persisting in folding up the keyboard stand and electing to ignore him. “ _Thirdly_ , just because two people like each other doesn’t mean they should get together.”

“Ugh,” Minho groans, rolling back, holding the scorebook to his chest. “You’re one of _those_ people.”

“We’re an _idol group_ , we’re not allowed to decide what we post on social media, much less choose a dating partner,” Woojin rolls his eyes. “And you know it too. Don’t think I haven’t seen your fawning over Jisung.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Minho waggles his finger, but there’s no denying the blush creeping onto his cheeks. “And we’re platonic soulmates, thank you very much. So, you were talking about ordering in?”

_And he calls me out for changing the subject._

This is, apparently, a cue for the rest of the kids to come clattering back into the dorm, arguing loudly about something or another. Then, before he can do anything-…

“Hey guys!” Minho cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, with a wicked smile. “We’re calling delivery! Woojin-hyung is treating!”

There’s silence for a second. Then the dorm erupts into cheers.

*

“I don’t remember allowing delivery,” Chan quips. They’re all full and lazing around the dorm like sunbathing cats, now, except for Chan and Jisung, who'd gone back to the leader’s room. Then Minho had taken it upon himself to barge in after dinner bearing a box of green tea mochi, and Woojin had followed amiably.

“The kids are planning an uprising,” Woojin replies catatonically, slouched on one of the bean bags in Chan’s room. Black bean noodles with sweet and sour pork tend to do that to a person. His wallet and weighing scale can cry tomorrow. “Sorry, forgot to pass on the memo.”

Minho and Jisung’s squabbling from where they’re sprawled on the bedroom floor forms excellent background noise, the room smells soothingly of strawberries, and Woojin is tucked under one of Chan’s fluffy comforters on the bean bag, just about ready to enter hibernation. 

“Where’s Changbin, anyway?” he yawns. “Is 3RACHA re-debuting as a duo?”

Chan snorts, rolling over onto his stomach. “Apparently he stayed back this afternoon to help Felix with some extra rap practice. They’re _recapping_ in Felix’s room now.”

“Oof. What happened to bros before hoes?”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

Woojin snickers, and they lapse into a comfortable, food coma-esque silence again, for a while. Chan’s lying down, taking a break from composing, on his pillow, and they’re angled such that if Woojin just turned his head a little, he’d be inches away from Chan’s face.

“How are you feeling now?” he mumbles eventually, still not trusting himself to look Chan in the eye, at their proximity, in the relatively private cosiness of this nice, strawberry-smelling room.

“Better. Loads better,” Chan hums. His laptop is still on the bed, open to some sort of composition program, and his notebooks and files are spread out across the bed and floor between him and Jisung, but he hasn’t touched any of those in a while. “I thought I stole enough of your pork for you to know that. Thanks for buying me the porridge, by the way.”

“No problem. And that’s good,” Woojin smiles. “But if you’re still not feeling up to practice tomorrow-…”

“I _will_ be better tomorrow,” the leader frowns at the ceiling. “I have to be.”

“Manager says the producers are okay if submissions are pushed back to next week, by the way,” Woojin waves his phone. “See, I _told_ you it’d be fine.”

“Hmm,” Chan hums. While the relief in his voice is palpable, Woojin detects just the slightest hint of dissatisfaction. That’s Chan for you, he supposes – on top of the expectations of others, there was always this internal, arbitrary yardstick he’d made of his own initiative in his head. He didn’t just have to be good enough for others, he had to be good enough for himself, too.

It was one of the many things that both infuriated and intrigued Woojin about him.

The vocalist makes the mistake, then, of looking up, and seeing Chan curled up around a throw pillow under his own comforter, face half-buried in his pillow, dark, diamond eyes peeking out through his blond curls, still a little damp from his shower. Everything about him radiates a warm, cottony softness, except his eyes, eyes that Woojin knows from experience can be cheeky or stern or excitable or tired, but right now pull him in like a magnet, snaring him like a bear in a trap.

Extended eye contact should, Woojin thinks back to past experiences, be awkward and uncomfortable for both parties. But here and now, staring at Chan, the sound of Minho and Jisung’s conversation fades to a barely audible buzz, and the room in general seems to dim to the periphery of Woojin’s consciousness.

Again, it’s impossible to tell what Chan’s thinking. But he burrows into his pillow, just infinitesimally, and the edge of his lips tilt up into a sweet smile.

Then Minho’s soap bubble laughter breaks the clairvoyant silence between them, and Woojin stirs, turning away, feeling like he’s just been doused in cold water.

“Hyung, tell the truth,” the dancer says, looking positively evil as he pokes Jisung’s cheeks, now stuffed with mochi. “Jisung looks like a squirrel when he eats like this, right?”

“Yes, very cute,” Woojin chuckles, nodding, wiping his palms on his shorts out of habit. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he doesn’t dare to turn around to look at Chan.

Jisung scrunches up his nose, before attempting a hairflip that almost makes him choke. “I know you all think I'm hot.”

They all end up on the floor, sharing mochi and talking about music and Youtube videos. Chan cringes when Jisung flops onto his lap, attempting to lick mochi flour off his fingers seductively, and the wild, involuntary thought of _ah, he’s cute_ flies through Woojin’s consciousness like a trainwreck on fire.

(He stops the thought in its tracks and sends it back where it came from, with a stern warning that _there will be consequences_ if he ever has to see it again.)

“’Night,” he mumbles when he and Minho are heading out. Chan is upright again, headphones back around his neck, the unguarded sleepiness of just now tidied away and forgotten. “Sleep early.”

“You too,” Chan murmurs with a smile, and it’s ridiculous, the way Woojin’s heart swells in his chest with just two words.

Woojin doesn’t actually sleep early that night, instead getting dragged into a Switch game with the kids outside as a replacement because _Felix-hyung is busy_ , and he stumbles into his bunk in the semi-darkness that night yawning, already regretting his life decisions, knowing he’s going to have to wake up early tomorrow. He falls asleep, dreaming of strawberry cotton and diamond eyes.

*

It’s still dark out when Woojin wakes up, a nagging sense of dread at the pit of his stomach. He blinks wearily, knowing he should try to get as much sleep as possible before practice later, but eventually sits up, rubbing his eyes.

 _You should check on Chan. Just to make sure he’s okay_.

Woojin stumbles out of the room, eyes adjusting to the darkness, feeling his way to Chan’s room by muscle memory. The sun isn’t even out yet, and the clock on the wall says it’s six in the morning. _He’s probably fine. He looked a lot better last night._

Then his foot connects with something warm.

Woojin’s heart shoots into his throat as he stumbles back, senses kicking into overdrive from the panic. Through some primal fight or flight instinct, his vision sharpens just enough for him to make out a figure in a hoodie and shorts, unconscious and curled up like a foetus, chest rising and falling with small, pained breaths on the tiled floor between the bedrooms and the bathroom.

_No. No no no not again, why? Why'd he pass out again, when he’d looked so much better last night?_

But then, just barely in the dimness, Woojin’s eyes manage to trace the outline of a frame that's smaller than it should be, and on the oversized hoodie, the outline of a little duck.

It’s not Chan.

It’s Jisung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big hearts!
> 
> sorry for the slow updates on this, i'm currently interning and trying to hold down two part-time jobs, but my birthday just passed and i was like,,, screw this,,, so i turned off my phone and hid in a cafe to write this for 5h!! 
> 
> ALSO SORRY i haven't updated surrender in almost a month, the next update is a Big one and i'm trying to throw presentation ideas at a wall now to see what sticks ;u; thank u for understanding guys ;u; hehe
> 
> please let me know your theories!!! the Joos is coming soon (next chapter, tbh) so i'm super duper curious to know what you guys think before that hehe ;u; hope you guys have a great day, comments and kudos will be appreciated!


	4. 004.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin’s heart shoots into his throat as he stumbles back, senses kicking into overdrive from the panic. Through some primal fight or flight instinct, his vision sharpens just enough for him to make out a figure in a hoodie and shorts, curled up like a foetus and comatose on the tiled floor between the bedrooms and the bathroom, chest falling and rising shallowly with small, pained breaths. 
> 
> But then, just barely in the dimness, Woojin’s eyes trace the outline of a duck on the hoodie in the darkness. It’s not Chan.
> 
> It’s Jisung.

No. No, no no, _why_?

“Sungie,” Woojin whispers, kneeling down, shaking the smaller boy. “Sungie, can you hear me?”

“Mmfhglp,” Jisung groans, stirring, and the vocalist lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“What’s wrong? Can you stand?”

“Hurts,” the younger boy whines, curling up, shaking his head when Woojin tries to pull him into an upright position. “Tummy hurts.”

“Let’s get you to bed,” Woojin urges quietly, sliding an arm around Jisung’s back, the other around the back of his knees. The younger boy clings on like a baby koala when Woojin lifts him up easily – he’s been working diligently on bulking up, but as he is now, probably still wouldn’t be able to tip the scales on even Changbin whilst soaking wet. The vocalist heads first for Jisung’s room, then changes midway, remembering that the younger boy’s bunk is on top – Jisung will have to settle for Woojin’s bunk, then.

Woojin huffs as he gently rolls Jisung onto his mattress. The younger boy curls up around one of the throw pillows like a hamster immediately, burying his face in the pillow.

“Why do all of you have to get pregnant at once?” The older boy laughs breathily as he tilts Jisung’s head up to let him drink some water.

“’M not ready to be a dad,” the rapper mumbles with a feeble giggle after a couple of sips, already drifting off into sleep. “’M not like you.”

The older boy sighs, before slumping onto the cold floor, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Jisung's gentle snores. _What is it we’re missing? Why does this keep happening?_

Needless to say, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep until morning.

*

Outside, a storm brews.

Woojin sets a fresh bottle of water by Chan’s bedside. Then, he reaches over, smoothing back Chan’s hair.

“You’re acting like I’m dying,” Chan croaks out a chuckle. His skin feels clammy and cold under Woojin’s hand. He doesn’t reach for the bottle, maybe because he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to pick it up without spilling any.

The vocalist searches desperately for something witty to say, to lift the awful mood and make Chan smile again, and comes up with a great deal of nothing. “I don’t understand why this is happening,” is all he manages. “First you, now Jisung-…”

Both of them glance towards Changbin’s bed, where Jisung is curled up under a thin blanket, sleeping soundly, holding Gyu for comfort. Their manager had come over at 8.30 in the morning after Woojin’s call, immediately bundling Jisung out of the dorm to drive him to the hospital. They’d come back a few minutes ago, and he was standing outside now, making a call to some other staff members.

He’d sounded pretty cross that no one had informed him about this earlier, but he must’ve sensed that morale was already pretty low and elected not to say anything. And for that, Woojin is grateful - he doesn’t think more conflict is what Chan needs right now.

_Speaking of which…_

“The doctor wasn’t sure. It could be a virus, I could’ve spread-…”

“No, Chan, we know it’s not,” Woojin shakes his head firmly, hoping his voice masks the sound of what’s happening outside. “ _All_ of us have been hanging around you, not just Jisung. If it were a bug, then we would’ve gotten sick long ago – especially Changbin, you know what his immunity is like. Something else is going on.”

The volume of the voices outside takes a steep hike just as Woojin pauses, and Chan frowns, making as though to get up. He can barely even right himself into a sitting position without needing time to recover. “Are the kids arguing?”

Woojin shakes his head, pushing him back down, though he knows, with a hint of desperation, that Chan’s usually the only one who can resolve matters like these. “Chan, you need to rest. I’ll-…” he hesitates. “I’ll handle it.”

The leader raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

His worries aren’t unfounded, of course – old habits die hard, and Woojin’s typical plan of action in times of loud shouting and things breaking has always been a strategic retreat to his room, earbuds in and phone out. He’s quite the expert at pretending he doesn’t exist. Moving out from his home to a dorm with eight strange, temperamental boys didn’t exactly change much. He can’t count the number of times he, Felix and Jeongin have inconspicuously barricaded themselves in their room, sharing mukbang videos and murmuring about video games, while the others waged World War III outside in the living room.

 A coping mechanism he might actually revert to now, if not for the fact that one of his usual bunker buddies is currently stuck outside, the subject of vitriol.

Woojin fixes a smile on his face. “Sure.”

He has to steel himself with a breath as he turns the doorknob, feeling the weight of Chan’s worried stare on his back. _The things you do for love_ , he thinks.

Then, _I did not just think that._

He opens the door and steps out into a hurricane.

“…why you didn’t _tell me_?”

Felix is standing in the centre of a haphazard sacrifice circle, hands folded in front of him, looking absolutely terrified. Sacrifice circle named as such because while the rest of this team have all openly declared their love for him in some way or another, none of them are stupid or suicidal enough to get between him and a raging Minho.

“We literally spent the whole fucking morning clearing out the fridge and the pantry, we sent messages on the group Kakaotalk and everything, and you didn’t think it’d be important to tell me you got this from a _fan_?” He’s shaking something – it’s the half-finished box of mochi from last night, Woojin realises.

He’s never seen Minho this angry before, or to be precise, he’s never seen Minho this angry at _someone else_. He’s seen the dancer get frustrated at choreography, at the industry and at his own inability to perform sometimes, but never at someone, much less another member of the team.

 _And ah, I stand corrected. Maybe someone_ is _dumb enough to get in Minho’s way._

“It was an honest mistake, calm down,” Changbin retorts. From the couch, where he’s currently pretending to be a cushion, Jeongin winces. “We didn’t see the messages until way later.”

“Sounds like a you problem, if you ask me,” Minho’s delving into sarcasm now. Usually a bad sign. “Jisung was fucking _unconscious_ this morning, doesn’t that mean anything to you? Or was the _extra rap practice_ more important?”

_And now, make that two people._

“Minho,” Woojin interjects, then, before either Changbin or Minho can say anything else they’re going to regret later. “It wasn’t the mochi.”

Everyone’s looking at him now, and if he didn’t already feel like sidling rapidly towards the nearest soundproof, enclosed space before, he certainly does now.

“What else could it be, hyung?” Minho demands. On a better day, Chan might make some remark about the age line. But Chan’s not here now. _He’s not here now, and this isn’t helping him._ “Both he and Chan ate this last night, and now Jisung’s barely conscious and Chan’s worse than he was yesterday.”

“Minho, think about it,” Woojin says slowly and carefully. “You and I both ate it too, and we’re fine,” he raises a hand sharply when Changbin tries to cut in, and the other boy falls silent, still seething. “If it was just one of us, it could be a fluke, but _both_ of us? It was something else, and now we need to work together to figure out what that is.”

It takes a few seconds, but Minho seems to calm down at that, anger simmering rather than boiling, and he tosses the box of mochi onto the coffee table, jaw still set.

It’s then that Changbin decides to ignore Woojin’s hand and bite out a retort. “Apologise to Felix.”

Minho turns on him, eyes flashing, and in a split second, Woojin steps in between them, pushing them apart. “Okay, cool it, both of you.”

Minho shoulders away Woojin’s hand, then, running a hand through his hair roughly as he storms out of the dorm, letting the door slam shut behind him. Even after his departure, the air is fizzing with tension, no one quite knowing where to look.

Woojin squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, struggling to gather his thoughts. What would Chan do now? _He’d get someone to be with Minho…_

“Hyunjin,” the boy jumps when his name is called, looking around as if to say _me?_ “Can you follow Minho, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid?”

“O-okay,” the dancer says, standing reluctantly, as Woojin pulls Changbin aside before he can storm off.

“Changbin, calm down. _Don’t_ go out after him.”

“Hyung, didn’t you _hear_ the way he was talking to Felix just now?”

“And you _know_ why he’s so worked up,” Woojin says firmly. “He’s never yelled at any of us like this before, much less _Felix_ – it’s the fear talking, Changbin, not him. And butting heads isn’t going to help Chan or Jisung get better. So let’s just try to figure out why this is happening and try not to kill each other in the process, okay?”

The dorm falls silent as Hyunjin leaves. For a moment, Changbin doesn’t meet Woojin’s eyes, arms folded across his chest, muscles working in his jaw. Then he gives a short, stubborn nod.

“And you and Minho will talk when he’s back?” Woojin doesn’t know why he’s pushing it. On any other day, he’d be heaving a sigh of relief that he managed to make it this far.

And again, to his surprise, Changbin nods again. “Sorry,” he mumbles gruffly. “You’re right, we’re all just wound up over this.”

“We’re going to find out what’s doing this,” Woojin says resolutely, not knowing where he’s getting the certainty about this from. “Before it hurts anyone else.”

_Before it hurts Chan to the point he can’t recover._

“Yeah,” the rapper sighs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his neck as he walks over to the couch, where Jeongin and Felix are curled up in a protective huddle.

Woojin’s almost relieved when their manager comes back in to announce that practice is still on – at least the exertion will help them blow off some steam. It’s also hard to stay angry at one another when there’s someone else, namely the instructor at the front of the class yelling at all of them to improve their formation, to focus all your negative energy on.

He walks back into Chan’s bedroom, focused on texting Hyunjin to ask how Minho is, barely noticing the way the other boy’s staring at him, mouth slightly open.

“How are you feeling?” Woojin drops onto the beanbag beside Chan’s bed, lowering his phone, and Chan seems to snap out of a trance – probably the dizzy spells getting to him again.

“That was,” he pauses, before giving him a small smile. “Thanks. I was about to drag myself out of bed.”

Woojin chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood, though his heart is still hammering from just now. “You should have more faith in me.”

Chan's eyes soften, as he gathers the comforter to his chin. "I always believe in you."

 _He has to know_ , is all Woojin can think desperately, then. _He has to know what this does to people. He has to be doing it on purpose._

But he looks back into the other man's eyes, and sees nothing but open honesty. 

 _You too_ , is Woojin's usual first line of defence, but he’s got enough operational brain cells to realise that it doesn't work this time, and scrambles for something else to say to fill the silence.

"Manager-hyung's back, practice is still on for the rest of us," he mumbles in a rush, heart racing. "We'll buy food back for you." 

Chan smiles, but there's just the slightest downward tug to his lips before that. "That's good. Is Felix okay? And Minho?" 

Woojin doesn't even question how he knows - probably some infallible parental instinct acquired over the years he's known the others. 

"Yeah, I asked Hyunjin to go out after him," the older boy sighs. "Changbin's still in the living room with Felix and Innie. You should talk to him about this, he listens to you better. Hopefully practice will be able to take their minds off things for a while at least, I hope." 

"Yeah," Chan hums, before grinning, glancing up at Woojin as he nudges him. "And you say you're not their dad." 

"I'm not," Woojin laughs. “I just…whatever this is, I’m just hoping it ends soon,” he gnaws on his lower lip absently. “It’s messing all of us up.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rolling over to stare at the ceiling, folding his arms across his chest. There’s a tinge of helplessness lining his voice, though, that Woojin despises. “It has to.”

*

As per the leader’s request, Woojin eventually leaves to call Changbin in. Minho returns with Hyunjin a few minutes afterwards, joining Changbin and Chan in the smallest bedroom reluctantly. As always, Chan is able to work his magic, and the two leave the room looking much more tolerant of each other than before.

Jisung wakes up before they have to leave, too, weakly cracking jokes about how he should totally get sick more if it lets him have a single bed rather than an upper bunk, so it’s safe to say the general mood is a whole lot better once they leave for practice.

It’s almost late afternoon when they grab an early dinner after dance, before hurrying upstairs to get ready for their evening vocal classes. The two producers send a selfie after dinner, still on their beds with laptops out and headphones on, Jisung with a bright smile and two thumbs up, and Woojin’s finally able to feel some sense of reassurance.

It’s almost like some sort of disturbing routine, now – a shock in the morning, one that slowly wears off through the day like the effects of a fever dream, then the next day, it starts all over again...

“You look constipated when you think, hyung.”

Woojin’s snapped out of his reverie, looking up, disgruntled, into the smug face of Hyunjin.

“Yah,” he grumbles, budging over where he’s seated on the floor of the studio to make some space for the dancer anyway, who flops over onto the cool floor, head pillowed on Woojin’s sweatpants. “Thanks for this morning, by the way. You must’ve felt scared, going after Minho alone.”

“It’s okay. It was probably worse for him.”

Woojin raises a brow, though he gets the gist of what Hyunjin’s saying. “What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you sent me,” Hyunjin rolls over onto his front to take a drink of water, scrunching up his nose. “Because we’re all close, but I’ve never really gotten Minho-hyung, you know? Then I realised, I guess none of us really do get him.”

The older boy nods slowly. “Other than Jisung.”

Hyunjin hums in affirmation. “Maybe the thought of losing that made him scared, too.”

The eldest lets out a chuckle, ruffling the younger boy’s hair. “Since when was our Hyunjinnie this observant?”

They both look over, then, to where Minho is, surprisingly, seated by Felix’s side on the floor, both of them discussing things in low tones - probably put up to it by Chan. It was difficult to put into words how it’d happened, but the older dancer had seemed much more relaxed, much happier, after the picture update from Chan this afternoon, like an invisible weight’s just been rolled off his shoulders.

“That’s why you’re scared too, right hyung?”

For the second time in a few minutes, Woojin’s shaken out of his thoughts, and he raises a brow again, this time not without a hint of warning. Hyunjin seems impervious to it, though, watching him with a cheeky monkey smile from where he's sprawled over the older boy's legs.

“Of course I’m worried about losing Chan and Jisung,” Woojin says carefully. “Considering the fact that we’re all in a team together.”

“You don’t show it very well, but we know you’re the most worried of all of us,” the younger dancer says knowingly. “But you’re the only one who can, so it’s okay.”

 _That_ confuses Woojin. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not just worried about the physical poisoning, aren’t you hyung? You’re worried about what it’s doing to Chan-hyung emotionally too,” Hyunjin shrugs, bony shoulders bumping against Woojin’s thigh. “You’re the only one who knows him well enough to do that. You could write a whole thesis on the Fantastical Mind of Bang Christopher Chan.”

Woojin laughs at that. “Hyunjin, don’t be silly. We _all_ know him well.”

There’s a pause that clouds the moment between them for a while, as Changbin tears across the studio, chasing Jeongin down for his water bottle.

“Hyung,” the younger boy says quieter, now, barely audible over the ruckus. “Why won’t you let yourself like him?”

For a moment, neither of them speak. Woojin blinks, floored once more by the honesty of the question – was this something he and Jeongin had discussed beforehand, or something?

He tries out a few responses in his head, none of which sound satisfactory, aware that Hyunjin’s still watching him expectantly.

“Hyunjin,” he starts cautiously. “I appreciate how accepting you are of the idea, but even if there was anything, and there isn’t – if it doesn’t end well, it would hurt everyone, you included. Something like that isn’t my decision to make.”

“ _If_ it doesn’t end well,” Hyunjin repeats, that apparently being the only thing he’d picked up on. He rolls over onto his front, soft brown hair falling into his eyes, resting his chin on his upturned palms like a little boy. “But if it does?”

It’s impossible to reject the eager plea in the younger boy’s eyes, and it’s all Woojin can do to manage a chuckle, nudging the dancer’s cheek with his thumb. “Then that would be nice.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth to argue, before he processes what Woojin’d said, and his eyes widen, lips upturned in a surprised smile. Woojin’s overcome with relief when their vocal coach walks in at that moment, apologising for being late and chastising them for not starting on their warm-ups first.

The conversation gets lost in the midst of practicing their newest song, and in the middle of hoping against hope that Hyunjin forgets it ever happened, Woojin finds himself wondering.

_But if it does…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i enjoyed that a lot more than i probably should've
> 
> congrats to everyone who guessed minsung!! i love our soulmate couple ;u; sometimes i feel like jisung doesn't exactly operate on minho's wavelength, he's just the only one who actively tries to, and then i got emo thinking about minsung,,, also i may have just read an honestly pretty spanking minsung canon soulmate fic over the week and had Big Feelings
> 
> but i digress!! so the next update shld be coming up in a few days, but after that i'm not allowing myself to continue this fic until i finish the next chapter of surrender ;u; hopefully that'll be within the next 10 years
> 
> excited to hear what you guys think!! comments and kudos will be appreciated~


	5. 005.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunjin opens his mouth to argue, before he processes what Woojin’d said, and his eyes widen, lips upturned in a surprised smile. Woojin’s overcome with relief when their vocal coach walks in at that moment, apologising for being late and chastising them for not starting on their warm-ups first.
> 
> The conversation gets lost in the midst of practicing their newest song, and in the middle of hoping against hope that Hyunjin forgets it ever happened, Woojin finds himself wondering.
> 
>  
> 
> _But if it does…?_

All concerns are, Woojin learns, for naught, when they walk back into the dorm that night to find Jisung sashaying around the living room, wireless headphones around his neck, snacking on Changbin’s rice puffs.

“I’m sick!” the rapper yelps, scuttling to the safety of Chan when Changbin starts to chase after him. “Red card!”

Chan is on the couch, plugged in as per usual, only looking up with a smile when Woojin gravitates towards him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Woojin says, unable to stop the silly smile on his face and the emotions that flutter up inside him, even as Jisung zooms past him, still holding onto the rice puffs, to find sanctuary with Minho. _The kids are right, I’m a goner._ “How are you feeling?”

“Better. As usual,” Chan doesn’t seem as happy about it. _He’s probably thinking about how he said the exact same thing last night._ “How was practice today?”

“Good. I think we’re really getting everything in sync,” Woojin relays dutifully, hoping to alleviate at least some of Chan’s worries. “Jisung’s feeling better, I see.”

“Yeah, it took most of the afternoon but I think he wanted to be back on his feet as soon as possible,” the leader snorts. “He’s been taking the medicine the doctor prescribed, too,” he bites his lip, looking worried, then. “I heard Manager-hyung making some pretty serious phone calls today. I think he’s escalating this to the management. I just hope the fans don’t find out…I wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“They won’t, you know how careful the staff are with information like this,” Woojin tries to cheer Chan up. “Let’s just focus on getting you and Jisungie better.”

Felix barrels over then, plopping beside Chan on the couch and burying his face in the other man’s stomach. Woojin chuckles, patting Felix’s thigh, before absently heading off, deep in thought.

_This morning too, Jisung had been fine the night before. Something must’ve happened last night, and the night before, and the night before that…_

He’s so absorbed he doesn’t realise he’s walking straight into the 2000-liners’ room, empty save for Seungmin, who quickly shoves something under his pillow when he hears someone enter the room. When he sees that it’s Woojin, though, he sighs in relief.

“Sorry, I thought you were Jeongin,” he says plainly, taking out what he’d hidden just now – it’s an A4 spiral notebook, usually full of neat notes and coloured tabs that Seungmin makes during his vocal and dance training about how to improve himself. He has a whole box full of these things, categorised according to date, which he actually takes out on a monthly basis to review.

“What’ve you got there, Minnie?” Woojin walks over, standing beside Seungmin’s bed, knowing how conscientious the other boy is about cleanliness.

“It’s okay, you can sit. I just don’t like it when Sungie puts his feet on my pillow,” the younger boy sends an annoyed glance in the direction of the door, before lifting the notebook with a resigned look. “And I was just trying to get my thoughts together about the poisoning, I guess.”

As always, Seungmin is straightforward and collected, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. Outside, the sound of the others laughing over some drama episode on the couch together floats into the room, as Woojin leans over, studying the notebook.

There are two columns neatly drawn (with a _ruler_ – Woojin hasn’t touched a ruler since he was in high school), one with ‘Chan’ as a header, the other with ‘Jisungie’ _._ In each column is a list of different foods – food they’d eaten yesterday, Woojin realises. Some are circled in red marker, with little notes made in pencil.

“I was talking to Chan this morning, and both of them tonight. What you said to Minho this morning about the mochi gave me the idea,” Seungmin admits. “To find whatever’s doing this to them.”

Woojin squints at a neat scribble in a margin. “A late night snack?”

“Well…don’t you think it’s weird, hyung?” the younger boy lowers his voice, brow creased. “How Chan always gets better by night time, but the next day, he’s back to how he was the previous morning, or worse?”

Woojin nods, glancing outside. Seungmin doesn’t want to incite panic by letting the others hear, the vocalist realises. “I realised it too.”

“It has to be something that happens at night, before we go to sleep,” Seungmin says, sounding certain. “But Chan didn’t eat anything on the second night, and it can’t be the mochi you ate last night, too, because you and Minho-hyung ate it too. To be honest,” he examines the list, looking disappointed. “ _None_ of the food they both ate yesterday wasn’t eaten by us too. Much less something Chan ate for the previous two nights, too.”

Woojin sighs, though he’s unable to keep down the streak of pride he feels for Seungmin. He always knew the boy cared about the team, but to see him go to such extents for Chan and Jisung’s sakes – Chan would be proud, too.

“Minnie…” he trails off, then, looking into a spot on the wall, cogs turning in his head. “What if it wasn’t…something they ate?”

Seungmin blinks. Then, still with the same thoughtful look on his face, he turns a page on his notebook, picking up his pencil.

“Like,” Woojin fumbles for something. “Maybe it was something they still came into close contact with. Like using a toothbrush, or a facial soap-…”

“Or something they inhaled, like a spray,” Seungmin says distantly, scribbling things down. “Something Chan started using three nights ago, that he continued using every night after that. Something that Jisung happened to use last night too.”

Woojin presses a finger into his temple, heart rate picking up as he runs through the options in his head – for the first time, it feels like they’re actually getting somewhere.

Seungmin sits up straighter suddenly. “I’m going to go through Chan’s nightly routine with him, to see if there’s anything that Jisung happened to do last night too,” he looks expectantly at Woojin. “You’ll come with me, right hyung? He’ll be more comfortable to share if you’re around.”

Privately, the eldest wonders if the little musketeer trio have a conspiracy going on to get them together, or something, but decides to shelve that for now, electing to just accept Seungmin’s comment and nod, for now.

(He misses the surprised but pleased look on Seungmin’s face as they head out of the room together, towards Chan’s room.)

*

It’s almost half an hour later when Seungmin finally leaves Chan’s room, studying his notes. They’d had no luck on the obvious ones – if Chan and Jisung shared anything, like mouthwash or makeup remover, it was shared between everyone else too. But Seungmin had been determined to find a pattern, and Woojin had left him to it, knowing the younger boy worked better alone.

He wanders into Chan and Changbin’s room after his shower, as everyone’s preparing to go to bed, finding the leader without his laptop for once, instead watching a video on his phone.

“Manager sent me the practice videos from today,” Chan says, waving his phone. It’s nice, Woojin thinks as he takes a seat on the mattress, how naturally conversation comes to them now.

He remembers a time from when he’d first joined the company – he and Minho were pretty much senior citizens compared to the others, both with their own reasons for not wanting to get attached and their own ways of dealing with it. Minho was open and forthright when getting to know the rest. Woojin preferred to subsist alone and go with the flow.

But then, of course, along had come Chan, Chan with his easygoing friendliness despite the number of trainees he’s had to see come and go, Chan with his crooked smile and his intimidating clout and talent oozing from every pore on his body. Woojin used to think he’d grown immune to the charisma of boys and girls like him, considering where he’d come from, but then Chan had opened his mouth, and he’d found himself falling in line just like everyone else, believing in the golden future he preached.

Boys like Chan could move mountains without having to lift a finger. Because of boys like Woojin.

“Good enough for you?” the older boy grabs a stuffed toy, making himself comfortable.

“It’ll have to do,” Chan grins, and Woojin’s relieved, knowing that they’re holding the fort well enough to meet the leader’s standards without him. “You guys will have to hard carry me once I’m back in tomorrow. I feel like I’ve forgotten all the moves.”

“I doubt it,” Woojin rolls his eyes. “And even if you do, Coach Lee misses you too much to care. He almost burst a blood vessel trying to control the kids today.”

Chan lets out a commiserating sigh. The JYP staff who handle them probably aren’t getting paid enough for the shit they have to deal with on a daily basis.

Changbin walks in then, letting out a suspiciously theatrical yawn, before grabbing some of his supplement bottles and facial products off his bedside table, along with Gyu. “I’m going to sleep in Felix and Minho’s room tonight, hyung. We’re going to mend our broken brotherhood with the power of a mass bitching session.”

The leader rolls his eyes, but gives him a thumbs up anyway. “Don’t stay up too late.”

Woojin doesn’t know what makes him say it, then, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You can take my bed.”

The sentence hangs in the air for a split second, leering down at Woojin and blowing raspberries at him.

“Because it’s not good for your back if you sleep on the floor,” the eldest finishes lamely, clearing his throat. “We have dance practice again tomorrow.”

“Sure, thanks hyung! We could just swap then, maybe,” Changbin suggests, sounding innocent enough, but there’s _definitely_ a smug smile on his face when he leaves the room, his stuff in tow.

Chan’s looking away when Woojin glances back at him, but there’s a smile on his face. “We should probably sleep soon, too.”

“Yeah,” the older boy nods, vaguely aware that he’s supposed to get up at this point, but all he can think about now is how cute Chan looks when he’s smiling like that. “Okay. I’ll just go take my stuff.”

By the time he’s back, the room is dim, lit up only by the glow of Chan’s favourite mood lamp, which casts a cosy aura over the little room.

“Woojin?” Chan sounds wide awake, though, already tucked into bed, holding onto the stuffed toy Woojin had been playing with just now.

“Yeah?”

“Could you help me light the candle on the table? I’ll blow it out before we sleep, I just like the smell of it before going to bed.”

 _He could ask me to rob a bank for him, and I’d probably ask which one_. “Of course.”

Woojin putters around the table, picking up the box of matches beside the candle and striking one with ease, before lighting the wick. It’s a pink one, in a little glass cup with a note attached, probably from a fan. As the wax starts to melt, the room is filled with the sweet smell of strawberries.

_Strawberries…_

Something sticks out like a sore thumb at the back of Woojin’s mind.

“This candle,” he starts casually, studying the note. _For Chan-oppa_ : _May the fans’ love for Stray Kids be the air you breathe_ is written in black pen, with a heart. “It’s from a fan?”

“Oh yeah,” Chan replies absent-mindedly, starting to apply his facial creams. “Last week. She made it herself, did you know that?”

“I didn’t see it before, though?”

“I left it at the studio actually – I brought it back that morning we went together,” Chan pats the product into his face, humming as he does so. “I only started using it a couple of days ago, though. Jisung really likes the smell too.”

_Last night. When we were in the room together. That’s when I smelled strawberries too._

_Something they inhaled…_

Without any further thought, Woojin blows out the candle.

When he turns back to Chan, the leader’s giving him a confused look. “You don’t like it?”

“Chan, when’d you first start using the candle?” Woojin’s heart is palpitating. It’s a long shot, he knows, but he has to get this right.

“Two, three nights-…”

“The night you were at the studio? The night before you first collapsed?”

_Then he brought it back. He didn’t know. And he lit it when he and Jisung were composing in his room all night…he liked the smell of it before going to sleep…_

“Y-yeah…?” Chan says slowly, still not quite sure where Woojin’s going with this.

“You lit the candle before going to sleep,” he says slowly. “And then in the morning…”

Realisation dawns for Chan. “You think…the candle?” He glances uncertainly at it, like it’s suddenly become a time bomb. “Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Woojin picks up the candle.

“Be careful!” Chan says quickly, before glancing up, looking embarrassed. “It might…be dangerous.”

“It probably only works if you breathe it in over a few hours,” Woojin says, his mind buzzing now, trying to fit everything into place. It makes sense, because Changbin wasn’t composing with them last night, and only Chan and Jisung had been inside long enough to feel the effects. And Chan’s always working late into the night alone in the studio, that’s why no one else got affected before…

Woojin makes a decision, looking around until he finds a cardboard box on Chan’s table, probably one that used to hold a mug, and puts the candle in, marking out a big _do not use_ in pen on the side. “Let’s not take our chances. We can ask Manager-hyung more about it tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Chan says softly, still watching him. “If it’s true, then,” he rubs his eyes, sighing. “I’m such an _idiot_ , I practically poisoned Jisung myself…”

“No, Chan, that’s not true,” Woojin says immediately. “There’s no way you could’ve known. If it’s true, then-…” he bites his lip, trying to find a way to phrase this. “I’m…glad you won’t get hurt anymore.”

He ends off in a mumble, taking the box and heading outside to put it on the table, making sure the warning is clearly visible. Whilst washing his hands, he can’t help but berate himself – he should’ve been more sensitive when talking about the issue, of course Chan would blame himself for what happened to him and Jisung.

He works a smile onto his face as he walks back in. “At least we can tell the kids tomorrow that the snacks are safe. I think Jeongin’s been pining for the Belgium chocolates since forever.”

“Yeah,” Chan nods slowly, though there seems to be something else on his mind.

“Well,” Woojin presses his palms to his pants, a nervous habit. “Good-…”

“Can you sleep with me tonight?”

“…-night.”

Woojin thinks his heart stops beating for a good second or something. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chan says quickly. “Goodnight-…”

“I could,” _I could_ , Woojin realises. _Or I could end it here. I could pretend he never said anything and just go to bed._ “I mean, if you want me to…?”

_Or not._

There’s nothing between them now, no cameras, no managers, no prying eyes to see them and pass their judgement. Just Kim Woojin and Bang Chan.

In a world like this, anything could happen. In a world where Woojin didn’t have to think about the members, their job and their fans, maybe he could even begin to let himself try. But Chan lives and breathes this team, and maybe now, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, so does Woojin.

But perhaps, just for tonight, he can pretend.

“Yes please,” Chan whispers, barely audible above the whir of the air-conditioning. Woojin moves as though on command, feet propelling him towards the other boy’s bed. He gets in without thinking, marvelling inwardly at how naturally Chan shifts to accommodate him.

They’ve done this before, of course. The kids love sleepovers in the living room, complete with hot chocolate and movies and staring at the ceiling in the dark, gossiping and laughing until they fall asleep. Woojin is no stranger to cuddles, and becoming an idol only exacerbated the bad habit.

But with Chan, right now, curled up around each other in the darkness on a too-small bed, awkwardness still lingering, it’s different. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, doesn’t know where to look, and every muscle in his body is wound like a spring.

“Relax,” the other boy laughs quietly, then, and Woojin feels a wave of embarrassment. Chan probably used to sleep with lots of other trainees before debut, and the other members too – Woojin just happened to be the nearest available warm body tonight. Somehow, the thought is comforting, in a sinking sort of way.

“’Night,” he mumbles, bold enough to slide an arm around Chan’s waist, and the leader laughs again, rolling over so his back is flush against Woojin’s chest.

Sleep washes over them like rain, and as Woojin nuzzles closer, the tip of his nose brushing against the back of Chan’s neck, inhaling the smell of green tea body wash, warmth seeping from both of them to fill the snug insides of the comforter, he supposes that maybe he could get used to this, even if it isn’t (and never was) going to last, anyway.

*

Woojin wakes up to the sound of his alarm, going off under his bed.

Wordlessly, he rolls over, finding the edge of the mattress a lot faster than he usually would and almost toppling off. Grunting, he grabs his phone, shutting off the alarm and rolling back, sighing.

In his arms, someone sighs back.

His brain kicks into overdrive as every memory from yesterday comes flooding back, and he straightens a little, unconsciously reaching over to check on Chan. The other boy is still fast asleep, curled up against Woojin, but already he can see a healthy flush to the leader’s cheeks, and none of the paleness or clamminess that he’s had over the past few mornings.

Woojin lets out a sigh of relief, almost slumping back against the pillow. So it _was_ the candle. He should tell the rest, then, and hand the candle over to their manager, in case-…

The door handle turns.

Seungmin pokes his head in, hair fluffy and wearing his glasses, clearly having just woken up, and Woojin feels the urge to vacate the bed immediately. The younger boy doesn’t seem to notice or care, though, as though walking in to find Woojin sleeping in Chan’s bed is a perfectly normal occurrence.

“Hyung, is Chan awake?” the vocalist yawns. He’s whispering, though, so Woojin supposes he knows the answer.

“No,” Woojin rolls out of bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls the covers up gently, over Chan’s shoulders. “How’s Jisung?”

Seungmin breaks into a small, sleepy smile. “He’s doing okay. He started singing trot songs when I strangled him awake this morning.”

Woojin sighs in relief. “Back to normal, then.”

“We’re having breakfast outside, want some hyung?”

The eldest stands, grabbing his bottle to take a long drink. “Who cooked?”

“Manager-hyung brought breakfast,” Seungmin turns back to snipe at someone, probably Jeongin. “Oh, also, he wants to speak to you.”

Woojin feels a coil of unease at that, though it’s more on his part than anything. He wouldn’t know (or care) about the fact that Woojin had slept with Chan for a night, right?

He steps out, washing up quickly, before heading over to the table, where the kids are squabbling over kimbap and scallion pancakes.

“Manager-hyung’s outside, he had to take a call!” Minho calls out from where he’s busy trying to keep his rice roll out of Jisung’s reach. Woojin nods in thanks, opening the door to leave the dorm.

Their manager is standing outside, currently engaged in what sounds like the most boring conversation in history with someone about their schedule. Despite himself, Woojin feels a wave of sympathy at the exhaustion on his face, like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep since yesterday.

“Morning,” the man greets wearily, once he ends the call. “Are the boys still eating?”

“Yeah?” Woojin says, trying his best not to make that sound like a question. “Hyung, is something wrong?”

Their manager doesn’t usually bother with theatrics, always straight to the point, but he seems unusually on edge this morning, fingers twitching like they always do when he’s itching for a cigarette and trying to remember all his promises to his girlfriend about quitting. “Alright, I’ll tell everyone again later, but I wanted to bring you into the loop first.”

Woojin blinks. “Is this about…?”

“Chan’s poisoning,” Their manager’s phone buzzes again, but he barely glances at it, instead levelling Woojin with a look. “I got the security staff to look into it yesterday. They found the person who did it.”

Woojin’s jaw drops. “Wait, how’d they know-…? Are they interrogating the suspect?”

“Didn’t need to,” the older man doesn’t look very happy about it. “She admitted to it herself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orright bois!! now we into Actual Plot Stuff and not just chan and woojin gazing lovingly into each others' eyes while the others place bets on how long it takes for them to get together
> 
> i'm yelling at myself now because i just reshuffled this fic a little and im raring to finish the next chapter but i can't until i finish the next chapter of surrender!! so the next update might take a while ;u; i have a couple of hours in the evening free tomorrow so i'm hoping to use that to write!! thanks for understanding guys ;u;
> 
> i know things may be a little confusing now but they about to get real Joosy soon (and only about 3-4 chapters left to go!) so please stick around for that, and as usual, comments and kudos will be loved and appreciated!! reading all your comments and theories from past chapters really gives me strength to write ;u; thank you all and hope you have a great day!!
> 
> also i made a new writing acc on twitter @symmetrophobic, let's be mutuals! ;u; will be posting updates and stuff there too~


	6. 006.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Chan’s poisoning,” Their manager’s phone buzzes again, but he barely glances at it, instead levelling Woojin with a look. “I got the security staff to look into it yesterday. They found the person who did it.”
> 
> Woojin’s jaw drops. “Wait, how’d they know-…? Are they interrogating the suspect?”
> 
> “Didn’t need to,” the older man doesn’t look very happy about it. “She admitted to it herself.”

“She did _what_?”

“Quieter. Don’t let the boys hear it yet,” their manager waves a hand. “I’ll tell the full story later on but here’s the gist of it – you’re familiar with sasaengs, right?”

Woojin nods cautiously – who isn’t? They loved their fans dearly, but there were horror stories circulated among idols, some that never reached the public, about fans who sent letters written in blood, who broke into apartments and hid thumbtacks in cupcakes they gifted to idols.

“As part of JYPE’s security policy, we keep a log of all the sasaengs who’ve ever had a record against you guys,” the other man continues. "They were just beginning investigations when one of them approached the company."

"Through the front door?" Woojin asks in disbelief. Sasaengs didn't just casually walk into the main office and announce who they were.

"She called my number. Said she knew what poisoned Chan."

“She had your _number_?”

“It’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened,” the older man shrugs, before his lips thin, as he unlocks his phone. “The more important thing you should be worrying about is how she knew Chan was poisoned in the first place. These were on her phone.”

Woojin looks at the screen, and feels his stomach plummet.

They're all pictures of him. Him and Chan, emerging from the clinic, Chan with his head ducked and leaning onto Woojin for support. 

_Has she been following us?_

"Why," Woojin has to steel himself so his voice doesn't shake. "Isn't she in _jail_?"

"Firstly, because her father's one of the richest men in South Korea," their manager grunts, and Woojin lets out an exasperated sigh. _How much more can this sound like a drama_? "Secondly," he swipes the screen, revealing another picture. "Because she's fourteen."

Woojin's mouth goes dry as he looks at the girl on the screen - long hair, braces, carrying a knapsack, in a _middle school uniform_ , for crying out loud. _How could someone like that poison Chan_?

More than that, though, a sickening nausea rises up in him then, like he should be remembering something he isn't right now. Is it just him, or does the girl look a little...familiar?

"What does she want?" Woojin eventually finds the words to say, though he thinks he already knows the answer.

Their manager raises a brow. "What do you think? Why do you think she came to us?" he takes his phone back. "She wants to meet Chan.”

"No," Woojin says immediately, barely even thinking about it.

"Obviously not," the other man says dismissively. "We never even considered it.”

“Okay,” The eldest member tries not to sound too relieved. He’s suddenly happy that their manager’s telling him all this first, because he knows, without a doubt, Chan would actually _want_ to meet the girl, to ask her why she was doing this and try to talk her out of it.

“That’s just for context,” their manager sniffs, taking out a bunch of notes. “The important thing now is finding whatever poisoned Chan. So here's what the security team advised us to do-..."

"We think we found it though," Woojin blurts out, then. "Whatever poisoned Chan and Jisung."

The man frowns. "What? Where? When?" He looks in the direction of the dorm, worried at the flurry of activity inside. "Did anyone else eat it?" 

"It wasn't food. At least, we think it was," Woojin then explains what he'd found the night before. 

At the end of it, the manager looks dubious. "Well, it's possible, and if Chan and Jisung are feeling better now...I'll hand the candle over to the investigation team after I brief the group, see what they say."

"What can we do now, hyung?" 

Their manager snorts. "I wanted to tell you to look out for this girl - I didn't expect that you'd find whatever poisoned Chan already, if it really was the candle. Even then, though, don't let your guard down. She's back out now, and I don't think she's giving up. She's not like other sasaengs," the older man rolls his eyes. "She's smart. And targeted. She knows Chan, and she knows the system too. You need to make sure Chan keeps his guard up." 

Woojin nods, deep in thought, before something occurs to him.

"If you don't mind me asking, hyung," he starts, hesitantly. "Why are you telling _me_ this first?"

Their manager raises a brow, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you're the only one he listens to. Why else?"

He re-enters the house, then, batting away an overexcited Jisung asking for more food, leaving Woojin outside and wondering, desperately, why the world won't stop conspiring against him.

*

The safety briefing for everyone later is notably more toned down than the one Woojin had received, leaving out the scarier details about the stalking and the girl's ultimatum. They're just told to memorise the girl's face and alert security immediately should they see her, and informed about tightened security measures for the time being.

“ _No gifts and no letters_ ,” Jisung says morosely. “It’s like having no fans.”

“It’s just for this month,” Minho pushes his forehead, and the younger boy squawks in protest. “Just be glad you and Chan are getting better.”

"Who would've thought it was the _candle_?" Changbin looks particularly troubled. " _Anything_ could be a poison like that." 

"At least everyone's out of danger for now," Chan reassures him, barely looking up from his notes.

Despite the horror of the situation, though, things return to normalcy disturbingly fast. They’re idols, after all, and the industry waits for no one.

Chan's back to business by breakfast time despite warnings from the management not to strain himself, ordering the kids to clean up after themselves and rushing everyone out of the house. He looks immensely relieved to be back to work, back to the harrowing routine they're all used to.

In some way though, on the ride to the company building, Woojin finds himself sorely missing the mornings and evenings of almost undivided attention they’d shared during the few days Chan had been sick. It’s selfish to say, he knows, but Woojin can’t help but feel a twinge of familiar loneliness when Chan barely spares him a glance throughout the morning.

“We’re going to have to make up for when Jisung and I weren’t around,” Chan’s flipping through his schedule packet, listing out absently. “Then it’s vocal practice for all of us. We’ve got a radio show in a few days, so we need to prepare our scripts for that too. Jisung, are you listening?”

“Yes hyung,” Jisung immediately claps his hands to his sides, sitting at mock attention. This doesn’t stop him from making a face at Seungmin, whom he’d been bothering a couple of seconds ago.

“We’ve got a lot of recordings and things to attend these few days, so let’s just power through it until we get a break next week, okay?” Chan directs this to all of them. Woojin hums out an affirmative along with the rest of them, continuing to stare out of the window at the passing buildings.

“Woojin.”

The eldest almost jumps in his seat when called, turning around to look at Chan. “Yeah?”

“These are your questions for the show on Friday,” the leader pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to him.

After a moment, Woojin takes it, placing it on his lap without looking at it. Then, hesitantly, as Chan starts passing out the other papers, he chances the question.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yeah, better. Thanks,” Chan gives him a brief smile, before turning right back to his file, licking a finger and turning a page, before inspecting the name at the top. “Innie, this is yours.”

“That’s good,” Woojin continues quietly. He fidgets with the paper in his hands. _How do you broach the topic of what’d happened last night?_

_Unless…he doesn’t think you need to?_

At the back of his mind, the _I told you so_ is growing louder and louder – Chan sleeps with other members and trainees all the time. _Just because it was special to you doesn’t mean it was special for him_.

Though he knows it’s stupid, there’s always been one immensely stupid part of Woojin, set painfully deep in his chest, that believed they could be together one day. Over the moments of the past few days, that little notion had dug its claws in him, sprung up and flowered like a rose.

And now, the thorns were piercing through the skin of his palm, unwilling to be uprooted.

So he trains his eyes on his question sheet instead, pushing those diamond eyes far out of his mind, missing the way Chan’s gaze lingers, silently, on him afterwards.

*

The day passes fast, crammed full of practice to make up for the time lost, and Woojin finds himself exhausted by the time they're back. The sudden influx of practice has worn all of them out, he can tell, because even Felix and Hyunjin are quiet, stumbling back into the dorm and showers on autopilot.

Woojin peers into the smallest bedroom quietly as he walks past the doorway with a glass of water after his shower. Chan is at his desk now, notebooks stacked and laptop open in front of him, currently battling what looks like an Excel sheet. Inhaling deeply (and then ridiculing himself for it), Woojin steps in.

"What's that?" he murmurs, setting the glass beside Chan. The leader hasn't had a chance to shower yet, not with the kids taking up the bathroom, and...whatever this is, absorbing his attention.

"Some stupid thing we've got to fill in for the radio show on Friday," Chan grumbles, fiddling with the sheet. Woojin has to resist the urge to laugh at the furrowed look of frustration on Chan's face. Who would’ve thought that their great leader could be felled by something like a Microsoft program? He inputs a couple of words, before fumbling on the enter key. " _Shit_."

"Isn't the staff supposed to do this?" Woojin inspects one of the papers beside the laptop.

Chan groans. "Yeah, but you know how busy they are with investigations, our PR noona barely had the time to eat lunch today. I told her I'd handle this myself," he chews on his lower lip, looking dejected. "Kind of regretting it now."

Woojin looks cautiously between the Excel sheet and the paper, then at Chan. "I could... help you out?" 

"What?" Chan seems to wake up. "No, you don't have to-..."

"If you're scared I'll mess things up then you can take a look at it before it's done?"

"No, it's not that," the leader shakes his head vigorously. "It's just - it's my fault, I told them I'd do this, it's not fair of me to ask you to-..."

"You're not asking me, I'm asking you to let me help you," Woojin says quietly. "You've barely recovered, Chan."

The other boy seems to hesitate again, still looking at his laptop, then back up at Woojin. "I'll be quick. Just let me take a shower, I'll be-..."

" _Chan_. Take all the time you need," Woojin laughs. "I'll be here."

_I'll always be here. Always have been. It's all I ever can be for you. Here._

Chan finally relents, looking up with a grateful smile. "Thanks." 

The eldest looks away, forcing down the emotions welling up within him at the way Chan says it, the silly way just a word from him can make Woojin feel like jelly on the inside.

"Just go shower,” he mumbles, nudging Chan out of his seat, unable to hold back a smile at the way the other boy laughs.

The work is actually pretty mind-numbing once he gets down to it - just keying in responses they'd collected earlier and filling in extra forms. 

Woojin's already done by the time Chan hurries back in, a towel around his neck, poking his head out of the room to nag at Jeongin and Felix to go to bed. 

"Here it is. Are you going to send it off?"

"Yeah, thanks so much," Chan sounds immensely relieved. "Sorry I took so long, I was talking to Felix." 

"Is he okay?" Woojin asks worriedly, as Chan takes his place on the chair, scrolling through the answers hurriedly. 

"Yeah, just still a little shaken by what happened yesterday," Chan sighs, sending off the sheet. "He knows it wasn't his fault, and Minho's apologised like five times, but yesterday morning...it was pretty scary." 

Woojin gnaws on his lower lip. "I can keep an eye on him."

"Thanks," the leader smiles. His hands seem to hesitate, then, hovering over his notebook and laptop. Woojin recognises this one, cover beautifully bound in leather and detailing done in fine gold.

“Is that…?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Oh. Y-yeah? It’s the one you gave me, after our break,” Chan is _definitely_ blushing now. “I keep it for. You know. The special songs.”

Woojin feels his stomach clench at that. “Yeah…?”

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

There’s a measure of silence after that, as Chan busies himself tidying up the stack of books. His next question is quiet and uncertain.

"Are you...going to bed?" 

There’s something loaded in Chan’s voice that makes him feel like there’s something else on his mind, and Woojin weighs his next sentence carefully. "Yeah, probably. You?" 

The other boy's eyes dart away, and his voice grows exponentially smaller.

"Changbin's sleeping over in Felix's room again."

Woojin pauses.

Contrary to whatever the kids have to say about it, he's not stupid, he knows what this is. He knows it's the closest he'll get to an invitation from Chan.

What he doesn't know is _why_ Chan is still doing this, what the point of all this push-and-pull is if it doesn't mean anything to him. 

(But it doesn't matter. Because he knows what he's going to say anyway.)

"Okay," Woojin says without thinking, the ghost of a tired smile on his face. 

Chan brightens, then, pushing back the books and closing the laptop, walking over to the door to flick off the lights, slipping the towel off his shoulders and tossing it into the hamper under his desk.

Woojin sinks into the bed after him, like a moon locked in a planet's gravity. In the darkness, lit aglow by the mood lamp, Chan's eyes sparkle like stars.

Tonight, his embrace is like quicksand and velvet. The slightest touch makes Woojin feel like his heart is expanding out of his chest, crushing his lungs against his ribcage. 

“Get well soon,” he mumbles into the inch of space between them.

Instead of laughing like Woojin had expected, though, Chan leans in, so the tips of his damp hair tickle Woojin’s chin, warm breath fanning over the thin skin of the older boy’s throat.

It’d been easier last night, with Woojin’s chest flush against Chan’s back, when he didn’t have to look him in the eye and fight off all the emotions fluttering up within him. Now, Woojin’s lips are inches away from Chan’s, and all it’d take would be one simple slip-up, one wrong move.

“Woojin,” Chan whispers then, voice cloudy with sleep.

“Mm?”

“That girl Manager-hyung showed us this morning,” the other boy continues, and Woojin immediately tenses, fear coiling in his gut. “She wasn’t the girl who gave me the candle.”

Woojin’s train of thought comes to a crashing halt. He pulls back, noting the troubled, exhausted look on Chan’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. At least, I think so,” Chan sighs, rubbing his eyes. “The fan who gave me the candle was older. I remember thinking it must’ve been hard for her to manage working life and make me the candle at the same time.”

The older boy falls silent, thoughts echoing in his head, struggling to form an explanation for this. Maybe there were _two_ poisoned items. Or the sasaeng had paid the fan to give the candle to Chan. Or, the sasaeng had just lied that she had been the one to poison Chan, for a chance to meet him - after all, she never specified what she used to poison him, she might not even know about the candle either.

Or…

_The candle wasn’t what poisoned Chan._

“I’m probably just overthinking it,” Chan chuckles sleepily. “Just wanted to let you know.”

 _Typical Chan. Always never wanting anyone else to worry._ “Thank you for telling me,” Woojin mumbles, an arm sliding around Chan’s waist, falling silent as the other boy drifts off into sleep.

His eyes slide shut, thoughts about everything echoing in his head and mixing up with the choreo they’d perfected today and the lyrics he needs to memorise. It’s much too crowded in his mind, even without the weight of Chan in his arms.

Strangely, the thought to float to the top just as he’s drifting off into sleep is a warning.

_She knows Chan, and she knows the system. Make sure he keeps his guard up._

_You’re the only one he listens to._

_Maybe_ , Woojin thinks. _Now the question is, who am I listening to?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so sorry for the one month wait but it's HERE yay
> 
> i've given up on forcing myself to update certain fics so from here on out i hope you guys don't mind if i update whichever ones come to me the easiest! internship's just ended but school and club stuff is killing me slowly and the only joy i have left in life is hyunjin wildly declaring on national television that seungmin was not staring at his dick in the shower uwu
> 
> thank you guys for waiting and hopefully we'll be able to close this one out soon! :x looking forward to hearing your theories hehe, you guys have such AMAZING ideas i'm tearing up
> 
> hope everyone has a great day!!! xoxo
> 
> p.s. ray calls this the mpreg fic now and i can't stop her  
> p.p.s. this is a dumb milestone but THANKS FOR 1000 AO3 COMMENTS ;u; for those who've followed from got7 to here, i love you guys so much cries  
> p.p.p.s. i made a new writing account on twt, where i'll be posting updates and snippets of fics and screaming about other fics i love!! LET'S BE MOOTS YAY ;u; @symmetrophobic


	7. 007.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That girl Manager-hyung showed us this morning,” the other boy continues, and Woojin immediately tenses, fear coiling in his gut. “She wasn’t the girl who gave me the candle.”
> 
> Woojin’s train of thought comes to a crashing halt. He pulls back, noting the troubled, exhausted look on Chan’s face. “Are you sure?”
> 
> “Yeah. At least, I think so,” Chan sighs, rubbing his eyes. “The fan who gave me the candle was older. I remember thinking it must’ve been hard for her to manage working life and make me the candle at the same time.”
> 
> The older boy falls silent, thoughts echoing in his head, struggling to form an explanation for this. Maybe there were _two_ poisoned items. Or the sasaeng had paid the fan to give the candle to Chan. Or, the sasaeng had just lied that she had been the one to poison Chan, for a chance to meet him - after all, she never specified what she used to poison him, she might not even know about the candle either.
> 
> Or…
> 
>  
> 
> _The candle wasn’t what poisoned Chan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like every time i come in here i announce that the past few weeks of my life have been hellish and i am doing it Yet Again today folks, so i would like to apologise
> 
> hope you guys like this chapter uwu things are about to pick up speed!!

_“Until now, this has been Stray Kids! We’ll be back soon, thank you!”_

Woojin sighs in relief as he pulls the headset off once they’re no longer on air, slumping back in the padded chair to properly liberate his ears. Radio shows are fun, because it’s lots of sitting and singing, two of his favourite activities, but too much of anything is never good.

It’s only been a couple of days since finding out about the sasaeng fan, but despite the heavy schedule, Jisung and Chan are looking better with every day. Jisung’s almost completely fine now, and if not for the occasional bout of fatigue, it’d be hard to see anything wrong with Chan at first glance, too.

It’s almost enough to push what Chan’d said about the sasaeng not being the one who’d given him the candle out of Woojin’s head. Keyword here being _almost_.

It’s also hard to forget it when Jeongin and Hyunjin are snickering about _Channie-hyung has nothing to worry about with Woojin-appa protecting him at night_ , as if it isn’t embarrassing enough trying to get over the thought of it alone. Sure, he and Chan have been sleeping together since that night, but it’s got nothing to do with the sickness, right?

They troop out, individually bowing and shaking hands with Johnny and Jaehyun while they’re on camera, before crowding into the corridor to head towards the waiting room. It’s a three-hour wait before their next recording here, and taking into account the forty minute drive back to the office, the management had decided to let them atrophy here instead. Which is all good and well, really, because-…

“Hyung!”

Woojin stumbles as something _whumps_ into his back when they reach the corridor to their waiting room, wrapping him in a brief hug. He whirls around into a smile brighter than the sun.

“Ouch,” he wheezes, pushing Jungwoo off. The other boy is beaming, dressed for a variety show filming, in a yellow sweater that flops down past his fingers and worn blue jeans, his hair half-styled. It’s even got the tiny pink alligator clips in it, and Woojin wonders which stylist is pulling their own hair out right now, looking for him.

Vaguely, Woojin glances over, noting his other members are already heading off – they won’t miss him if he’s gone for a while, right? “Where’d you come from?”

“NCT’s filming something here, I’m not allowed to say what. The whole building isn’t dedicated to one stinky radio show, you know,” Jungwoo makes a face.

That’s the moment Johnny looms out of nowhere, taking a long drink from his iced Americano as he grabs the back of Jungwoo’s collar. “Take it back.”

“Nope,” Jungwoo wriggles out of the older boy’s grip, ducking behind Woojin and grabbing him to use as a shield. “You can’t take back the truth.”

The other man rolls his eyes. “You made the right choice, leaving,” he snorts, nudging Woojin’s shoulder lightly, and the younger boy laughs again, slightly more stiffly this time. “You don’t have to deal with _this_ every day.”

“Don’t be so mean, hyung,” Jungwoo says reproachfully, hooking his chin over Woojin’s shoulder, who chuckles again, glancing away awkwardly.

Okay, sure, Woojin knows the onscreen friendliness is great for media play, but to be perfectly honest, he isn’t close to most of NCT at all. He doesn’t know the bunch of them that came in after he left, and hadn’t really kept in touch with those he had known, other than Jungwoo and a couple of others, if you can count their passive-aggressive Kakaotalk sticker wars as conversation.

If it hadn’t been for Jungwoo calling almost every other day during trainee days and after debut, Woojin doubts they’d be where they are now, either.

There’s a rattle of a half-empty box, and Jaehyun walks up behind them, rolling his eyes at the duo. “We're off camera, take your gay shit somewhere else, Jungwoo. Where are the rest?”

“Upstairs,” Jungwoo relays, making a face at Jaehyun’s choice of words. “Taeyong’s waiting for you guys.”

“Yeah, we know,” Jaehyun glances at Woojin, thumbing open the cigarette box in his hand. “Wanna head outside and catch up?”

“Oh,” Woojin shakes his head politely, then, sensing watchful eyes from the waiting room just down the hall, hoping they hadn’t seen that. “Thanks, but I quit.”

“Like you guys should!” Jungwoo adds meaningfully. “Lung cancer is real!”

“Ah, I keep forgetting how strict JYP is,” Johnny claps Woojin’s shoulder again, throwing a withering look at Jungwoo, before the two of them head off. “See you around. Jungwoo, if Taeyong asks, we’ll be right up.”

Jungwoo salutes, before tugging Woojin off in the other direction, towards the Stray Kids’ waiting room. “So what’s the thing you wanted to talk about, hyung?”

“Not here, let’s find an empty room,” the older boy opens the door, poking his head into the waiting room. In the far corner, he spies Chan, busying himself handing out tetra pack drinks to the other members and staff. He worries his lower lip for a moment, before spotting Jisung nearer the door, tearing open a packet of bread, and waves to catch his attention instead. “Hey Sungie! I’m going to be out for a while. Call me if anything’s up, okay?”

Jisung nods, about to take a mouthful of bread, still looking cluelessly between him and Jungwoo. “Okay!”

“Ooh, this is so exciting,” Jungwoo says lightly as they head off, before Jisung can ask any questions. “Are we having a tryst?”

“ _Jungwoo_ ,” Woojin sighs. “Okay, there’s a vocal practice room we can use over there.”

He flicks the lights on the tiny room, closing the glass door behind them and sitting down on the floor.

“So,” Jungwoo starts opening a juice packet he must’ve swiped from their waiting area just now. “What’s the deal? Let me guess,” he gathers his legs to his chest, looking like an excited kid. “You’ve got a secret girlfriend.”

Woojin winces, feeling slightly guilty for not having updated one of his closest friends on that front. _Yeah, I don’t know if I even like girls anymore._ “No, it’s-…”

“And it’s an _Itzy member_.”

“Jungwoo, this is ser-…”

“And you guys are running away to Las Vegas to get married.”

“ _Jungwoo_.”

“Sorry. Gotta get my drama from somewhere,” Jungwoo sucks on his juice packet. “Things have been pretty boring ever since Jongin-sunbaenim got busted for dating.”

Woojin shakes his head, deciding to get straight to the point. “Jungwoo. Does NCT have sasaengs?”

Jungwoo shrugs, relatively unfazed by the question. “Is water wet?”

“Okay, dumb question,” Woojin admits. “Have you ever had any personal experiences with them? Like, you know, had something happen to you or one of the guys?”

Jungwoo finally looks a little uncomfortable, like he’s not sure how much he’s supposed to be saying. “Yeah, a couple, here and there. Why the sudden question, hyung?”

Woojin leans in closer, elbows resting on his knees. “Jungwoo, you can’t tell anyone else about this, okay?” When the younger boy nods cautiously, he continues. “Chan – he’s the leader of my group. He got really sick recently, and then a sasaeng came forward to our management to claim she poisoned him,” Jungwoo’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he starts gnawing on his straw, a habit back from their trainee days. “We thought we found what poisoned him - a candle, because when we removed it, he stopped falling sick. But he says the girl who gave him the candle wasn’t the sasaeng.”

Relief rushes over him at that point, just from getting it off his chest to someone who might actually understand. It’s been difficult, he won’t lie, keeping this entire issue to himself throughout the past four days, unable to talk about his true feelings in front of the younger members.

“Wow, that’s pretty hardcore,” Jungwoo says thoughtfully, still chewing on his straw. “He looked okay just now though?”

“He hasn’t fallen sick since we got rid of the candle,” Woojin mumbles, gnawing on his lower lip. “I guess I’m just paranoid we’re missing something here. The sasaeng could’ve just paid another fan to give the candle to him.”

Jungwoo shakes his head, waggling a finger. “Ah ah, you’re thinking like Woojin-hyung now, you’re not thinking like a sasaeng.”

The older boy squints. “What do you mean by that?”

“Sasaeng fans…doing what they do is part of the satisfaction. To put it this way, if you bought a really nice gift for your idol. You wouldn’t give it to _another fan_ to give it to them, right? You’d want to give it to them in a special way. That's how sasaengs think,” Jungwoo shrugs. “Did she find evidence he’d been affected by it? Like an account, or pictures, or something?”

“Yeah,” Woojin feels his mouth going dry. “They found pictures on her phone of Chan and I coming out of the clinic.”

Jungwoo nods. “To her, those are like trophies. She’s probably sharing them on forums and stuff with other sasaeng fans. Hurting him is like putting her signature on him.”

The vocalist leans back on his palm, feeling sick to the stomach at the thought of it. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

“You mentioned it was a candle, or something?”

“Yeah,” Woojin rubs a knuckle in his temple. _Everything about this is so wrong._ “We thought it could be from the candle fumes, because when he stopped using it, he started getting better.”

The younger idol drains his juice packet. “Does he like candles? Has he ever mentioned them on a Vlive, or something?”

That gives Woojin some pause, as he runs through every recent public appearance in his head. “No…I don’t think so? Why?”

“Mm…” Jungwoo frowns. “Well, I don’t really know about this, but maybe you should keep your guard up then. Sasaengs…they like to use personal things. It has to be special. It’s sort of their way of proving how much they know and love their idol, you know? If he’s never mentioned liking candles before, then…I don’t know, it’s not a hard and fast rule.”

“Ugh, this is so messed up,” Woojin deflates against the wall. “How could anyone do something like this?”

“People are strange, hyung,” Jungwoo shrugs. “Hope you find whatever it is soon. Let me know if I can help!”

“It’s okay, you’ve helped lots already,” the other vocalist says glumly. “I just don’t know what I’m missing now. How do you know so much about this anyway?”

“One of our managers is pretty experienced. She used to help Super Junior, and they had a _ton_ of sasaengs back in the day,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes, before he pauses, leaning forward slightly. “Also, I don’t mean to alarm you, hyung, but I think one of your members is spying on us.”

Woojin whirls around, just in time to see Hyunjin fleeing from the corner of the glass door. He sighs. “Okay, I probably gotta get back. You should too, before your stylists throw a fit.”

“Don’t make me go back to them,” the younger boy whines, as they stand to leave the room. “They’re going to run my entire body through a hair straightener. Also, Taeyong’s probably gonna be bitching at Jaehyun and Johnny for smoking before broadcast again, the waiting room’s always so noisy when that happens. At least go buy a coffee with me at the vending machine first, _please?_ ”

Woojin sighs while Jungwoo cheers, tossing the empty juice packet into a nearby bin. Even as the younger boy suckers him into paying for the coffee afterwards, he can’t help but think about the conversation.

 _Sasaengs like to use personal things. It has to be special_.

_So what’s special to Chan, then?_

*

The waiting room is buzzing with quiet conversation by the time Woojin gets back, bearing some snacks for the kids. They go forgotten on the table, though, when he sees Chan at the corner of the room on his phone, arms folded, and glimpses the acute look of stress on the leader’s face before he turns away.

“Hey, what happened?” Woojin lowers his voice, setting the packets of cuttlefish and prawn crackers down as he turns to murmur to Hyunjin, lurking by the doorway. “Who’s Chan on the phone with?”

The other boy shrugs. With the air of someone who thinks he’s being very discreet, he leans over to sniff at Woojin’s shoulder, before looking relieved. “He got a call from the producers. They’re being annoying about the deadlines for the songs again.”

“What? Why?” Woojin frowns, partially at what Hyunjin’d said and partially at the lack of trust. _I told you guys I quit._ “I thought we settled that the deadlines would be pushed back.”

“I dunno,” Hyunjin looks uncomfortable. “Where were you just now hyung? Chan was pretty upset.”

“Why? Didn’t Jisung tell you guys I was out with Jungwoo?”

Hyunjin gives him an owlish look. “Why do you think he was upset?”

Now Woojin is thoroughly confused, and also starting to feel a little miffed. “Okay. So do you know why they’re being like this about the deadlines? Chan’s barely even recovered, Jisung too.”

Hyunjin shrugs again, just as Chan gets cut off in the middle of a sentence. He turns around and heads for the door, barely even looking at Woojin, still talking.

“Yes hyung. Yeah, I understand. We’ll get them done as soon as we-…” He either doesn’t see or chooses to ignore Woojin’s questioning gesture, slipping out the door and continuing the conversation outside.

“ _Fucking_ psycho,” Changbin grumbles in a whisper a beat later, drawing an alarmed look from Jeongin. “It’s one of the head producers. Has the memory of a fucking goldfish, tells you to do something, forgets about it three seconds later and scolds you for screwing up the next day. He wants all the submissions by tonight, Chan’s trying to bargain it down to one.”

“Even then, it’s gonna take all three of us the whole night,” Jisung groans. “We haven’t had the time to do any composing the past few days with all the practices and recordings that got delayed, can’t he give us a break?”

“But you and Chan are still recovering, neither of you have gotten close to enough sleep over the past few days,” Woojin frowns. “Have you spoken to Manager about this?”

“He’s settling stuff for our recording now, and Chan didn’t want to bother him,” Jisung puffs out his cheeks.

“He’ll definitely stand up for you guys,” the vocalist insists, as the door opens again, and Chan pushes his way in. “C’mon, let’s text him and tell him what’s going on.”

“No,” the door shuts none-too-gently behind Chan, as he heads back into the room towards his bag. He’s clearly in a bad mood from the call. “Forget it. We should’ve settled the songs long ago. Changbin, Jisung, we’re going to the studio after our recording tonight. We have to finish the song before he gets to the office tomorrow.”

Both composers mumble assent, unwilling to argue with Chan when he’s in this mood, but Woojin isn’t ready to back down just yet, especially with what’s at stake. “Chan, you’re still not completely well yet, and neither is Jisung. It’s not hard, we can just call-…”

“I said _no_ , okay?” Chan snaps, making Jeongin flinch. There’s an infinitesimal pause, as about half the room glances nervously between Chan and Woojin. Then Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Let’s not talk about this anymore. The stylists are coming back soon, and the staff are bringing dinner. I suggest you guys rehearse your lines.”

Woojin turns away, jaw set, willing himself not to argue back. He knows it’s just Chan, Chan and his stupidly high self-expectations and his frustration from being incapacitated for the past week, and he shouldn’t feel upset, but he does. It doesn’t help that the rest of the members are pretty much tiptoeing around the two of them, scared to set off the elephant in the room.

He spends the remaining hour resolutely silent, barely paying attention to the videos that autoplay on his phone. WIth nothing else to do, it’s impossible to stop thinking about what Jungwoo had said.

 _You’re thinking like Woojin, you’re not thinking like a sasaeng_.

But how _would_  she think? How would that girl hurt Chan?

And _why_ had she looked so familiar?

If he focuses really hard on that image of her in his head, trying to remember where he'd seen her before, he can make out a faint background. A street. A building. The sound of traffic. The striking familiarity returns - for some reason, he thinks of home, of his neighbourhood in Seoul.  _But that doesn't make sense...I don't even know her._  

_Something personal. Something special…_

His mind drifts as the stylists run them through another round of makeup. He thinks back to Chuseok gatherings when he was fourteen, when his eldest cousin, a forensic psychologist consultant, would have to entertain a bunch of kids while the adults gambled and drank in the living room.

Of course, nothing entertained children more than murder, so she would talk about just that. There were a couple of things she used to say about every crime. There had to be evidence of the criminal act,  _actus reus,_ and  _mens rea,_  the criminal mind,to convict someone. And sometimes, you needed one to find the other.

It was basic human instinct to turn people like these into monsters, she said, because you don’t want to admit that they’re like you – that you could be capable of doing what they did one day.

But sometimes it’s necessary to think like a monster, to find out what the monster did.

_Something personal. Something special. Something he does every day..._

Woojin sighs, feeling the cold whiz of hairspray at the back of his head, before turning ever so slightly to see Chan hunched over his phone, his jacket abandoned on the back of the couch, earbuds in and nodding silently to a beat Woojin can’t hear.

_She’d hurt Chan using something he loves._

*

The night flies by uneventfully, and the composing trio disappear right after everything’s wrapped up. Woojin watches silently as Chan gets into the passenger seat of the cab, not sparing a glance back before the door slams shut.

The rest of them move like clockwork before they go to bed – they’re used to 3RACHA spending nights over at the studio. Woojin feels a pang, moving all his things back from Chan’s room. He wonders if this is affecting the rest of them as much as it’s affecting him, because usually, Felix or Jeongin would go over to the other bedroom on nights like these, to take advantage of the empty single beds.

Tonight though, the room remains silent, falling into a bereft darkness when Woojin goes back to his room.

He slips into an uneasy sleep, mind churning despite the physical exhaustion from today, a bad feeling welling up inside of him, like something’s going to happen. He tells himself he's just being dumb - Chan’s at the studio with Changbin and Jisung, the candle’s gone, and everything’s going to be fine when they wake up tomorrow.

Woojin supposes that he really should get better at lying to himself.

It’s dark when he startles awake to the panicked hum of voices outside. He rubs his eyes, rolling out of bed with a strange sense of urgency, almost hitting his head on Felix’s bunk because he’d forgotten he wasn’t in Chan’s bed anymore.

The kitchen light is on, weak white beams floating into the living room, and the digital clock shows the red numbers _05:12_ on the wall. His eyes are still adjusting, so it takes him a while to realise that there are three people out here, standing in a huddle by the doorway.

“What’s going on?” he croaks, walking over.

“He’s fine, you can go back to bed,” Jisung says, though the terror in his voice suggests the exact opposite. Now that Woojin can see, the sleep-mussed shock of blond belongs to Felix, while Jisung’s still in his clothes from last night. Felix turns around the moment he hears Woojin’s voice, eyes wide with fear.

That’s when Woojin sees the third figure look up at him, cap pulled low over his pale face, one arm around Jisung’s shoulder, so that with every miniscule movement, the younger boy’s swaying with the effort of keeping both of them upright.

Changbin takes a shaky step forward, then. “Wow, it really hurts,” he mumbles in a hoarse chuckle, eyes unfocused, before his legs give out, and he collapses into Woojin’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hugs changbin, my small talented gremlin
> 
> yeah so we nearing the endgame bois!! strap in for a ride!! there should be only about 2 more chapters from here on out, so we gon go fast
> 
> would just like to thank everyone here, esp those who've been reading and commenting from the start! i really treasure your messages (and a small part of me breaks down every time one of you guys stop commenting TT did i do something wrong) and i hope you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe ;A; it's a short fic but i feel like i'm still going to be sad when it's over because i won't get to hear from some of you guys anymore T_T
> 
> again, super excited to hear your theories and thoughts!! there were a ton of clues in this chapter and the previous one ^-^ comments and kudos will be appreciated! 
> 
> also! i posted another fic in the meantime, a short lil seungjin accompaniment piece to surrender, titled [one fine day ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19898590)! if you guys,, are interested,, ;u;
> 
> ps: if you guys followed me on twitter @symmetrophobic from here, do lmk through a dm and i'll follow back!! i was all ?-? this week trying to identify you guys huhu T_T  
> pps: once this fic is over, i'll be starting on a new one concurrent with surrender! i have a few planned rn but it's really up to you guys on what you want to read hehe ;u; so do you guys want:  
> (1) the woochan + babylix domestic fluff family!au series  
> (2) yet Another woochan + babylix series, but apocalypse/magic!au this time!! because i lack creativity  
> (3) long winded ass minsung fantasy!au ft thief!jisung  
> (4) ot9/changlix-centric second instalment to the spy!au  
> (5) *bangs table* caN YOU JUST FOCUS ON SURRENDER
> 
> *history of japan voice* vote now on your phones!!
> 
> thanks guys ily!!!! ;u;


End file.
